Blind Acceptance
by Ranekaera
Summary: Sequel to Favor Owed but following different characters, this time a red-haired human girl named Heather who gets herself caught up in Fae affairs when she hears too much for anyone's liking. Rated M for future chapters, and please leave reviews!
1. Can't win

When proof of supernatural creatures came to light sometimes around 1980, it was no surprise that there was worldwide panic and an alarming surge in hate crimes. The Fae had picked an inopportune time to reveal themselves, but what was done was done, and 34 years later the Fae were both common knowledge (in that most people knew they existed) and old news. But there was quite a lot that they weren't telling the public. For instance, quite a few of them were immensely powerful, and nearly all of them were very capable of extreme violence. They often fought amongst themselves, mostly for power, or so Heather was to understand. They policed themselves and thus probably got away with murder on a weekly basis for another thing. But another thing most people didn't know was that in subsequent years they had lost a lot of their magic, and their home, sometimes referred to as Underhill, had lost the vast majority of its pizazz too.

The Fae were both well-known to humankind by this point, indeed, but they bred slowly if they bred at all, and what with the combination of infighting, loss of magic and the occasional hate crime it really came as little surprise to Heather when she heard of a Fae Breeding Law being thrown up in the air. They didn't involve humans or mortals in their affairs, but Heather was a special case. Well, she thought she was special. She had super hearing and heard quite a lot slinging beers. And quite a few of the regulars that came into Big Daddy's were Fae. She could tell by they way they smelled, and how they felt when they got too near her.

See, Heather was blind.

She was a delicately built woman with pale skin, copper freckles nearly everywhere on her body, long curly red hair and heterochromea. She'd been blind since a car accident when she was 13. She was now 26. So she'd had some time to hone her other four senses, and in some cases even the sixth one and knew quite a lot more than most people gave her credit for.

For instance, she knew that the busboy Dan was cheating on his wife with the massage lady down the street, and at least one of the Fae who came in, a cranky sounding lady, had a thing for cats. She knew that Frank the mail carrier had at least two bastard children on the side of a rocky marriage and that her fellow barmaid Lucy was pregnant before she probably even knew herself. If knowledge was power, Heather felt quite powerful indeed.

She was willing to bet if the Fae ever got wind of just HOW much she knew, she'd probably have her mind erased, or worse her life, so she kept to herself, smiled in their direction when she noticed them, and gave them whatever they wanted to drink. And she was careful about saying things like "thank you".

Curiously enough, not many got that she was blind on first meeting her, perhaps because as far as appearances went, her eyes looked fine. One was blue, the other green and the muscles worked like normal. They just couldn't see.

She'd been working at Big Daddy's pub now for a couple of months. She'd had a hell of a time finding any job in the tri-state area, on account of the obvious. But the man who owned the place was a werewolf and said he knew that people could overcome just about anything if their other senses were just fine, and had given her a chance. Surprisingly, she fit well. She got a little help when she needed it, but for the most part she held her own.

It was busy for a Thursday and she found herself swamped but happy to be moving. She'd taken the time to learn her way behind the bar before she even started, after closing time so she'd have an easier time of it when they had customers. Dave had let her walk around while the place was empty and familiarize herself beforehand, so some of the other staff didn't even know she was handicapped.

She wore a bright green t-shirt with a giant shamrock and the name of the pub on the back of it, and a knee length black skirt. Waitresses had to wear the usual shorts, but the barmaids could wear anything on the bottom so long as it was black. She favored skirts. She had her coppery hair slung back in a sloppy curly bun, tendrils of it hanging across her face as she happily filled up a pitcher for a Fae sitting right in front of her. She wished she could still see. She'd heard a lot of things about what they looked like, how some were so beautfiul it was enough to make a grown man weep, but she knew enough of them were ugly too. If that accident had taught her anything at all about the world it was this: The most beautiful people sometimes hid in the ugliest wrappers and the opposite could hold true for the pretty ones. Appearances didn't matter, because they never lasted.

This man smelled like high spring, when the wind would blow on brand new leaves. He smelled like fresh new growing things, something she found completely relaxing.

"Here ya go, y'want anything else?" she asked cheerfully. She plastared a smile on her face and kept her eyes trained on where she figured his face was, though he kept shifting on the stool. She must have had a fixed glaze look going on because she felt a brief shadow pass over her eyes once, twice. She'd had that happen before; it meant someone was waving a hand in front of her face.

She blinked and smiled a little wider, grabbing a cloth from her apron to wipe down that spot on the polished bar.

"Your eyes alright, lady?" he asked.

"Nope," she smiled, and dropped him a wink before sauntering off. If that wasn't answer enough for people, she let them know it was all fine with her with a smile and a wink.

She turned to clean a few glasses, gracefully spinning on the spot once she realized she was on a collision course with Courtney and a tray full of wine, and managed to slide her way back over towards the soda fountain. She smiled to herself, quite proud. Usually her luck had her running into things that weren't bolted down. But she had trained herself to feel air currents in her immediate vicinity, so she could predict when things were close enough to her to touch and be touched.

"Slick," said a voice she had no problems recognizing. It was Dave, the kindly old werewolf who owned the bar. He could've been anywhere from 30 to 300, she wouldn't know it. He was the first friend she'd made when she moved here from Oregon and she considered him her most trusted friend now. It had started when she'd wandered in looking for work and he was fine with her looking at him as a friendly father figure. She got rides to and from work from him, because he made sure they kept the same schedule. He considered her someone worth looking after, something she was glad for, though her mother fretted about her being taken care of by a werewolf. There was a lot the public didn't know about them, either. Dave wasn't an Alpha, but he was dominant enough she supposed that he saw her as needing protection.

"Thanks, I'd pat myself on the back, but I like to keep modest," she smiled.

"Yeah, well I dunno what you said to that guy over there but he's been staring at you since you walked off. He trouble?" he asked. There was concern in his voice, and a subtle tonal change that suggested he could take care of him for her if he was.

She shook her head, her bun bobbing back and forth. She had a lot of hair.

"Nah. He's Fae. He was asking if my eyes were okay. I guess I got the "stare" goin' on again. I said nope, smiled and here I am," she shrugged. Her hands wiped down any glass her fingers danced over as if on autopilot. So long as she was busy, she felt like she earned both her paycheck and Dave's protection.

"Fae, huh. We don't get many of them in here, they normally all keep to the reservation or that Fae bar couple miles down the road. Want me to keep an eye on him for you?" he asked.

She laughed, and reached out to feel for his shoulder. She got the suspicion he gave it to her rather than let her find it on her own, and she gave his deltoid an affectionate pat.

"I'm fine, he's being civil. How're we lookin'?" she asked. She was talking about their pull so far.

"Ah. Not bad. Better than lastnight that's for sure," he replied. He placed his hands on her shoulders and gently moved her off to the other side, probably so he could get around her. The soda fountain was the narrowest part of the bar and being as busy as they were, he being the owner, he needed to be moving a lot too. She let him.

"Bye then!" she called, and someone at the counter suddenly slapped the wood right in front of her.

"Hellooooo! Hey! What're you deaf, can I get a drink or what?" snapped a prissy sounding woman. Heather got a whiff of perfume and alcohol. The lady was already slushed by the sound of it.

"Sorry, hun, what can I get for ya?" she asked.

She asked for a rum and coke, and Heather went about making it. She couldn't do any of the fancy sleight-of-hand bar tricks like spinning the bottles, for obvious reasons, so she just poured the thing like a normal person. Apparently this didn't please the drunk lady.

"Pssh, you're kind of a shucky waitressh," she slurred. "Can' even do no tricksh,".

Heather had heard far, far worse so she didn't let the lady get on her nerves too bad. She slid her drink over to her on a napkin coaster with her usual smile.

"That'll be three-fifty, ma'am," she told her.

She didn't know if money was dropped or not but she heard coins fall, so she presumed so. She swept her hand across the polished wood until she felt the familiar feeling of cash and coin and swept it all up. The woman could have her one drink, as far as she was concerned. She'd probably already been cut off somewhere else.

"Ha-hay, c'n I talk to yer boss, lady?" she asked.

"Sure!" Heather said cheerfully. Oh this should be fun.

She got Dave, and didn't bother sticking close by. From any position behind this wraparound counter, she'd be able to hear their exchange even over the din of the place. She snickered to herself as she heard Dave start to explain very sarcastically why she'd "ignored" her for five minutes and couldn't take her money right away.

" 'Scuse me... miss?"

She took a deep breath, and turned towards the voice, plastering an openly curious look on her face.

It was the Fae again. She remembered that smell of new spring leaves and sweetgrass.

"Want somethin' else, sir?" she asked.

"Your number?" he tried. There was a grin in his voice, and the odd request made her laugh. Despite her delicate appearance, she had a loud, jovial sounding laugh and an even cuter giggle. She got hit on all the time, but never by the Fae. But then she remembered the new Breeding Law that was being put into effect, and decided to err on the side of caution.

"Ah ha, Well you seem nice, but my landlord won't lemme bring home strays," she teased. "Tell ya what though, Courtney, that nice girl over by the soda fountain, she's single an' lookin'," she grinned. It wasn't really a lie; Courtney was a single mom who could use a guy to help her out.

The Fae just slurped his drink a moment before speaking.

"...Nah. She's blonde. I like redheads. You have very pretty hair," he remarked.

She was getting a bit of a creepy vibe now.

"Well, I would say thank you but I think maybe you should ask one of the other girls," she said, a tad more firmly. Never thank a Fae, or they would expect that you owed them something in return for your thanks.

Suddenly strong, thin fingers grabbed her by the wrist and she was pulled closer across the bar. He still smelled so nice, but she really didn't like being manhandled.

"Hey, let go've me!" she yelled.

"ALL I ask for is your number," he growled. He grabbed her other wrist now, and her torso fell ontop of the bar. She screamed for Dave, and twisted, trying to get free, but he had a grip like iron. Ironic, as the Fae were deathly allergic to the stuff.

There was the sound of heavy bootsteps, and a pause as Dave jumped the bar and suddenly she could hear fighting. She was helped back behind the counter by she didn't know who, someone soft and feminine and alltogether comforting. Adriana, one of the waitresses. She was, according to most, supermodel-beautiful but she had a motherly streak a mile wide. For once, Heather welcomed it, and let her hold her.

"You okay?" she asked softly.

Heather let herself feel the other woman's shoulders, before laying her head on one of them with a whimper. She hated being manhandled because she couldn't fight. And even when she tried, she lost. She'd had experiences like it before, and they had robbed her of all confidence. Plus the guy'd been Fae. That added magic to brute strength. She felt beyond helpless.

"Will be," she sighed.

Over the sounds of fighting she heard a couple of guys near the front of the bar talking about lesbians. Let them talk, that just meant bigger tips for both her and Adriana, she thought with a smirk despite herself.

"ENOUGH!" Roared a voice suddenly. This one was new, and it was loud enough that nearly EVERYONE in the bar stopped talking.

"Cabrille, GO," said the new voice. He had an Irish accent thick enough to cut with a knife, and she heard the other Fae, Cabrille she guessed, spit something in her direction in what sounded like Russian, before his footsteps began to fade. Adriana gave her a gentle squeeze and let Heather have her comfort-cuddle. Being blind came with some advantages; because she got around by touch more oft than not, people didn't mind her cuddling and touching.

"Back to your business, folks, nothing more to see," said Dave. She heard a growl in his voice and knew that he'd had to keep his temper in check so his wolf didn't gain the upper hand and scare everyone.

Gradually the chatter started up again, and she felt Dave gently touch her shoulder so she'd know it was him. She nodded to Adriana and smiled.

"Thanks, Adry... you're the best," she sighed.

"Anytime, hunny," said the woman, and she gave her a pat on the back before leaving. Now it was Dave who was examining her wrists.

"Did he hurt you?" he asked. He flipped her arms over.

"No, just scared the crap out of me. You know I hate being grabbed like that, I can't fight, I can't WIN...," she started to panic, and felt a finger cross her lips.

"Hush, I know, I know. The owner of the Fae bar down the road heard about the ruckus and took him out, you're safe," he quieted her. She thought the owner of the Fae bar must either have SUPER hearing, or news traveled quickly.

She'd had her huggings from Adriana, but she gave Dave one too.

"What would I do without you guys?" she smiled.

"You okay for the rest of the night?" he asked.

She sighed, and slumped like a teenager fed up with a nosy parent. In some ways the analogy was spot-on.

"I'm fine now, really. Was anything broken? Are YOU okay?" she asked.

"Nah, I was only focused on him, and I didn't rough him up too bad. Don't think he wanted to piss off the entire pack by taking me on, honestly," he grinned.

She huffed.

"Lucky you have a pack...," she mumbled.

"Think of US as pack?" he suggested. By us she supposed he meant the entire barstaff, Courtney and Adriana, Ben the dishwasher and Lucy the pregnant waitress. Lucy didn't like her much, but Ben got along with just about anyone. He was the youngest wolf in Dave's pack, according to Dave. Only just nineteen or something.

"Sure, Dave," she smiled. And that had been the end of that.

Dave shut the place down at the usual 10'o'clock and made Ben shoo the last few lushes out the door so they all could get to cleaning. Ben liked cleaning the kitchen on his own but Lucy normally helped him. Heather contented herself with cleaning down the bar, where she was the most acclimated and comfortable, and Dave tended the books while Adriana and Courtney cleaned up the seating areas.

She was almost finished when she heard the front doors open. A blast of cold air from outside wafted in and she frowned, slightly puzzled. Adriana had locked those doors, she was sure of it.

"Hey, Adry, did you lock the front doors?" she called.

"No, I forgot, hang on lemme grab the keys!" she called back from somewhere near the bathrooms.

"There's no need, lass, I just wanted to come by an' offer yer boss a bit 'o repayment for the broken table," said the man who walked in. He was the one who'd taken the violent Fae out earlier, Heather thought. So then this must be Uncle Mike, the Fae who owned the pub down the road. She'd never been to the place but apparently it catered only to the Fae, or perhaps humans just didn't go there. Apparently Dave HAD broken something.

She managed a shaky smile.

"I'll go and get him, if you like," she offered. She set the rag she was using down and unlatched the little gate that would let her out from behind the thing. Her skirt swished as she walked across the carpeted floor. She wore green shamrock knee-highs and black flats with her ensamble. Green had been her favorite before the accident. She knew her way back to the office with minimal wall-feeling.

She came back with him close behind her.

She waited as he kindly told Uncle Mike there was no need to pay for the table, as he had spares in storage for just such occasions.

"I don't mind the occasional broken up furniture, but I just can't have people manhandling my waitresses, I'm sure you understand," Dave was saying.

"Oh, no that much I understand. We're having some... troubles of our own and some aren't dealing well with the change. I'd still feel better about it if I could perhaps owe you a favor in the future," said Uncle Mike.

There was a slight pause. They both knew what it meant when a Fae just offered a favor. That or Mike was an extraordinarily nice man.

"I don't want or need anything at the moment, and it isn't me your man assaulted. Heather's one of my best and she doesn't let much get to her but she's blind and being jerked around like that terrifies her," he explained. His voice got a little softer when he talked about her, she was touched to notice. He loved her like a daughter. For someone who never had a dad growing up, she felt a sudden rush of affection for the guy.

She felt all eyes on her suddenly. The irishman approached her, slowly, until he stood just in front of her. He smelled similar to the other, but different too. Chicken wings and beer were a given, she worked around it all day and probably smelled like it too, but he also smelled like pine forest and hazelnut. It was heady, but nice.

"Then I suppose it's you I owe, then. Truly, I am sorry. Brille can be a bit of a brute. If there's anythin' yeh need, just stop by an' ask for me, alright?" he said to her. He kept his voice gentle, and she moved her eyes towards it.

"Alright, I guess...," she nodded. She folded her arms, grasping them at the elbows and didn't know what else to do really.

"Did you need anything before you go?" asked Dave at last.

There was another pause and she wondered what he was doing that it took him so long to reply.

"No, that was all. I'll be seein' one or the both 'o ya soon enough. Goodnight," and she heard him leave. She looked towards where she smelled Dave. Dave was easy to pick out, because he smelled like safety to her; he smelled like food, man, woodchips and of course wolf. He worked with wood when he was at home, she knew.

"Does he do that a lot?" she asked at last.

Dave snorted.

"What, offer favors? NO Fae I've ever seen does it a lot, but I guess it happens. Just, be careful what it is you ask for, alright? No doom curses or anything like that," he teased her.

She grinned.

"Oh, just for that I'm SO going to ask him to paint your house orange," she stuck her tongue out. Dave hated orange. She imagined he was making a face, and the thought made her giggle.

She heard the familiar sound of wedge heels and knew Lucy was on her way out the door.

"G'night all, seeya tomorrow night," she said and sure enough that was that. Courtney wasn't far behind, talking on the phone about bedtimes and babysitter fees and then Ben. He smelled mostly like soap and some kind of cheese snack, as well as wolf. It was a little nauseating, but she supposed he didn't smell like that all the time.

"See you guys later," he said.

They said their goodbyes to everyone including Adriana, who gave both of them a little half hug on her way out, and Dave whistled. They were alone now.

"I swear, if I'd been Changed fifteen years younger...," he joked. According to him, he'd been Changed when he was already well into his sixties. Now he appeared to be in his fourties, but she knew he was very old, at least three centuries.

She smiled and went to go get her jacket and her purse out of her employee locker, tugging on the familiar warm fleece zip up and throwing the long strap of her purse over the opposite shoulder. She met him by the door. He was her ride home, after all.

"It sucks I lost my eyes at thirteen instead of like sixteen. I never got to drive myself anywhere," she huffed.

"It's not all it's cracked up to be, trust me," he assured her. There was the familiar sound of him locking the inner doors and then they stepped out into the cold and he locked the outer ones, too.

Big Daddy's was located on a relatively well known stretch of road but it was one of the last places of civilization until you got to the Fae bar two miles down the road from there. That was going back. Going forward, she knew, led straight into the heart of downtown. They got plenty of business but she knew they were a little off the beaten track.

He always parked in the same spot for her benefit, too. She reached a hand out and immediately felt smooth, cold metal, curving gently upwards. It was the front end of a candy apple red Ford Explorer. He liked his trucks, did Dave. It was all plush on the inside, leather interior, heated seats, the works.

Dave hopped in, waited until she was buckled, and they were off.

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She woke up the next morning around 8:30, which was her usual time, and did her morning routine. She fed the dog, watered the cat and the plants, what plants she had in her tiny apartment, made breakfast, showered, the whole nine yards. She looked forward to the day.

She was scheduled to work again at six the next night but she wanted to do some things first. She wiled her time away until around four in the evening. When she needed to go somewhere and Dave wasn't available with his manly protection and epic truck, she took a bus. And when she took a bus, she had either her dog or her cane with her. Today it was a cane. Ellie, her three year old golden retriever, wasn't feeling well.

The bus drivers in her part of town were familiar with her, and incredibly helpful so it was in good spirits that she stepped off at last in front of the Fae bar. With the help of her cane she made her way across the parking lot. Her steps were even, confident and normal, her cane sweeping the dirt in front of her. It ran into something that felt like galvanized rubber, she guessed car tire, and she knew to move out of the way.

She was aware of being watched the minute the bus stopped. She felt the stare intensify the closer she got to the steps, in fact. She climbed them as confidently as a person who wasn't using an obvious white and red collapsible cane.

Just as surely as she'd walked up, she felt a hand on her collar, meant to stop her from entering. It only took her slightly by surprise. She turned towards where she could hear him breathing and offered a smile.

"Where do you think you are?" asked what could only be the bouncer. He smelled like fabric softener and skittles, not a very scary scent if she could ignore the obvious scent of Fae beneath it.

"Well, I was under the impression this was Uncle Mike's Tavern. He came by our place lastnight, told me to drop by sometime," she replied. She'd worn a clean Big Daddy's shamrock shirt and a petal-cut green skirt that reached her knees. Her knee socks were rainbows today.

"Say I don't believe you," said the bouncer. "Humans lie".

She pretended to think about that for a moment.

"They do. But I'm not. May I come in and talk to the owner?" she asked.

"No," huffed the bouncer.

She gave him, or the air around him, a look and folded up her cane. Hell with it, she'd just go in anyway. She pushed her way past him, and to his credit he didn't get physical. He wrapped a hand around her upper arm and moved her away from the door. She'd been expecting it, and the man was working so she knew he wouldn't seriously maim her, but all the same.

"REALLY, man, go get him an' he'll tell you!" she snipped. Her hair was down today; it hung in wild half curls down to the small of her back and tended to get frizzy when she was angry.

The Fae walked away from her, and she heard him mutter something in another language to someone within, and a different man came out in his stead. This one was bigger, heavier, and he smelled like kelp and low tide. They weren't unpleasant smells, but there was a definite undercurrent of... something. This one might hurt her, maybe.

Pretty soon the first one came out, and she recognized the warm tone and hazelnute and pine of Uncle Mike himself, who greeted her with a friendly handshake. He remembered her handicap then.

"Best we talk in my office, there are some... issues towards humans these days," he told her just loud enough so he knew she'd hear. She felt something prickle at her skin as she took his arm. The prickling seemed to wash over her entire body before settling in like an invisible sort of blanket. Inside smelled of hot wings and alcohol, warmth and holy hell could she smell the elements in here. Earth, Fire and Water in abundance, and everything thereabouts. She tried to keep focus on Mike's scent, and waited until she heard a door close, quieting the lull of noise out in the main part of the bar.

"There's a chair behind you if you care to sit, ... Heather, was it?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Heather Mahar, that's me," she agreed. She wasn't aware of it but he'd thrown a Don't Look At Me glamour over her when they walked in, so no one had seen her.

"Have you come to claim repayment already then?" he asked. He sounded cheerful, though maybe that was just because her surname was irrefutably Irish.

"Not yet, no... To be honest I dunno what I'd even want," she began. "I came here to ask you something... and you don't have to answer," but then she uttered a laugh. "Ha... you'd find a way to circle around the question if you didn't want to answer anyway," she smiled.

"I can't promise I'll answer it, and you probably know why, but ask it," he said.

She focused on where his weight was scentered, and tried to look him in the face before she spoke.

"I know about the Fae Breeding Law being imposed," she began. "Will it cause many problems in other bars?"

Whatever he'd been expecting, it obviously wasn't that. She couldn't see his face, but his tone of voice had changed, and so had his scent, albeit subtly. The pine grew stronger and she caught what smelled like springtime.

"May I ask how you know about that? It hasn't even been made public to all of us yet," he asked.

She smiled.

"You of all people know a bartender hears a lot of things, whether they're intended to be heard or not. And I can't help but hear everything. I hear EVERYTHING," she emphasized with a coy little smile. "For instance, I can hear what they're saying on the other side of the door... I can pick out individual snippets of conversation, and even tell you what decibal range all the voices are in," she bragged a little.

She heard him swallow.

"Well, that's interesting, but why do you tell me this?" he asked.

She frowned, and felt around for a chair. She sat and moved her hair out of her face. It was bushy again.

"Not all humans are dumb, they're going to know something's up if the Fae suddenly start picking up humans in bars across the tri-state area," she sighed. "It'll affect some of us whether the Grey Lords want it to or not,".

Uncle Mike paused again.

"You know far too much for the Grey Lords to be very happy, little Heather," he said sadly. She smiled and offered her slender little wrists out, as if to be arrested.

"Clap me in irons and to the dungeon I go?" she joked.

He chuckled at her wit. "No. Not irons, anyway. But if you know TOO much, they might think of finding a way to ensure you're silenced," he assured her. She sighed again.

"I know... which is why I keep quiet and don't let on that I know a lot more than I really do," she smiled. She frowned a moment as she caught someone behind the door talking about Mike. She smiled.

"What's a Green Man?" she asked suddenly.

"Now you show off," he danced around the question.

"I assume they're talking about you. Good things, I promise," she smiled.

"As well they should, if they want to keep drinking in my bar. As to your initial question, I couldn't promise anything. We are all of us very different from one another and I'm not privy to most of their, ah, dating habits," he smiled. "But if I receive any more complaints from down your way, I'll be sure to keep an ear out,".

She nodded and stood to go again.

"I only ask because Dave's place ... well it's kinda like my home away from home. Y'know? He gave me a chance, it's the first place I could work at where I'm not rushed or belittled for the whole blind thing, and I'd hate to lose it because some Fae got all touchy-feely with the wrong patron and caused an uproar," she smiled.

"They'd be dealt with, rest assured Heather," said Mike. She nodded. "I know. I'll see you around sometime, then. I have to get to work now,". She could go in early. His advice wouldn't go unheeded that was for certain.

She opened the door to leave but Mike called her back one more time.

"Yes?"

There was a small pause. "If you hear anything else you ought not to, I'd suggest keeping it quiet," he said.

She smiled.

"I usually do,".

Getting out hadn't been as easy as getting in, somehow. Despite her cane, at every step she felt someone blocking her path and it was only by tapping the sides of their feet that she managed to get by. Finally she could feel the later afternoon sunshine and a breeze on her face again, which meant she'd come near the door, and stepped out to smell skittles and fabric softener again.

"Bye," she gave him a very girl little wave, limp wrist and all.

She heard him huff. Men. It seemed whether human or Fae they weren't very different. The thought made her smile all the way to work.


	2. Meeting the Grey Lords

Uncle Mike's words rang in her head all through work that night. She'd be lying to herself if she said she didn't feel a LITTLE special, knowing what she did while most of the world seemed to be oblivious. Would the Grey Lords swear her to silence, or abduct her somehow and force her into this "program"? No, she didn't think they'd go quite that far, they were trying to look good in the eye of the public. "Local woman kidnapped by fae" didn't really sound like a news broadcast they would want put out.

Work went by in a blur as it usually did on Fridays, so busy that she barely had time to think much to herself, only act. She tried to keep herself zoomed in on what her senses told her. Coconut liquer smelled like, what else, coconuts, but the coconut rum smelled more like boot polish and coconut extract, no, the strawberry daiquiri bottle had 3-dimensional berries on the glass, better try grabbing a different one. When it came to making the drinks, she relied mostly on touch, which bottle was tallest to shortest, some had unique toppers, others had guilded script, and partially on scent. When it came to the drinks that really did need eyesight to make, such as anything involving precise measurements or anything involving fire, she would get Dave or one of the other girls to do it.

There was only one fight, and the bouncers took care of it. She could remember serving a couple of Fae, both men who seemed to be deep in conversation speaking in what sounded a lot like German. She caught a few words here and there, but not enough to string anything together into a coherent sentence. So she couldn't eavesdrop.

When closing time finally came, she was beat. Her feet hurt and her favorite rainbow knee-high leggings had a hole from where she stubbed her chin on a corner hinge leaving the bar to use the restrooms. She didn't wear a nametag telling others she was visually impaired, so when she ran into someone they assumed she was drunk on the job. She had heard all of it. Every bit.

Little by little the bar emptied until it was just the two German Fae, still talking as if nothing was going on. They seemed to be arguing now. She didn't want to interrupt them but it WAS closing time.

She walked up to stand in front of the drink serving station and started wiping down the area that they seemed to be sitting near. "It's just about closin' time, guys," she informed them. She was polite enough about it and even flashed the one nearer her a smile. She caught a whiff of something that reminded her of thunderstorms, just before it started to rain. It was cold and sort of metallic like that. Along with it, she caught something like honeysuckle and summer shrubs, a more pleasant smell but no less strong. Of the two, she thought the one who smelled of lightning storms was probably the more dangerous.

"We know. We're waiting to speak to your boss," said Thunderstorm.

"Oh. Ah, I'll go and get him, sit tight," she said, and she turned towards her left by a step and a half, where she knew the door to his office was located. She had to walk around the bar, which was the central thing in the bar, to get to it. Her hair swished from side to side as she walked and she was pretty sure one or both of the Fae were watching her go.

She knocked on the door, but she knew that Dave knew she was already there. Like her, he could smell every little thing, including who was behind closed doors. Well, her sense of smell wasn't quite THAT good, she couldn't smell through doors unless it was something exceptionally strong, but she had the next best thing.

"Something wrong hun?" he called through the wood paneling.

"Couple Fae are wantin' to talk to you," she said in a voice that she knew wouldn't carry. He had pretty good hearing, too. In the hearing department, she was sure she had him either matched or beaten, werewolf or no.

"Tell them I'll be right out," he replied quietly. She frowned. He didn't sound very happy. Now that she had a moment to stop and think about it, he'd seemed distracted the entire night. Maybe he knew something she didn't. She was just a bartender, after all and he owned this place. As close as she knew he was to her, like a guardian of sorts, she had only been here for a short while.

She relayed the message and went about her cleanup duties as was usual, arranging the bottles until they were all even with the lip of the shelf they sat on, wiping down surfaces that felt sticky to her. Sweeping and mopping was Lucy's job. It seemed she knew she was pregnant, now. She had a decidedly unhappy smell to her that hadn't been there yesterday.

After a few moments it was obvious she was being watched again. She didn't let it appear to phase her but inside she was dying of curiosity. It hadn't even been a whole day since talking with Uncle Mike, had someone overheard her talking to him about the Breeding Law from behind the door? And if so, what did these guys want? But if not, then why were they watching her like that?

Finally she heard Dave's footsteps approaching and he started talking with the Fae in German. Huh. She hadn't known he spoke German. The man was full of surprises. His dialect was different than theirs though, she noticed. She just went on with her duties, rinsing out glasses and setting them under the bar on the towels they belonged on. There was a sudden slam and she jumped and whirled around so fast she whipped herself in the face with her hair.

The slam, it turned out, had been Dave slamming a beer glass down on the counter too hard. When he spoke, he was trying desperately not to yell, but there was a snarl to his voice that said not only was he pissed, he was pretty close to wolfing out.

The Fae by comparison seemed calm and they both scraped their chairs as they got up to stand.

"You're not taking her anywhere without me," he snapped.

Now she had no doubt they were talking about her. She put her back up against the center of the bar and stared as blankly as she could in their direction.

"What's going on?" she demanded, trying to sound insistent and unconcerned. It sort of worked. She didn't sound scared, but curious.

"They've been told to bring you somewhere to meet with the Grey Lords," he growled.

She felt her face pale and her heart skipped a beat. Mike was the only one who knew she knew, so it meant he'd told them, unless the Grey Lords wanted her for another reason, but it wasn't likely. She was just human, what else would they want with her?

"We're just doing as instructed. You don't want to keep them waiting," said the one who smelled more of honeysuckle than thunderstorms. He was taller and heavier than his friend and she swore she felt some kind of otherworldly warmth coming from him even from where she stood. Then it occurred to her she was smelling, feeling through his glamour. If she had eyes, she'd be seeing through it too. She sometimes found herself smelling or hearing through Fae glamour. She hadn't told many she could do it if she tried hard enough. She didn't think they'd be happy knowing that either.

She ignored the sunshiney feeling she got from the Summer-Fae and dried her hands off on a dishtowel, with a sigh.

"If I promise not to make a fuss, can he come? In case you couldn't tell, I can't see, so… he kind of helps me out. And stuff," she sidled up close to him until she could feel his arm against hers. He put a hand on her shoulder to reassure her.

"Fine, the werewolf can come. But he waits outside when you meet with the Grey Lords. It concerns Fae business, no concern for a werewolf," insisted the Thunderstormy Fae.

"What do they want with me?" she demanded.

"Oh, nothing serious I'm sure. Probably want to ask you some questions. And stuff," said the Storm Fae, using her words against her. He alone of the two had a faint German accent. The other man had an even fainter one she couldn't quite place. Perhaps Ireland once upon a time ago? It was hard to tell.

"Fine. Lead on, then" she sighed. She looped her arm through Dave's to let him know it'd be alright. "It's fine. I think I know what this is about and they can't really do anything," she whispered to him under her breath.

He put an arm behind her back and walked with her to the doors and outside, leading the Fae out.

"Whose car do we take," he said, sounding grumpier than usual. He must still know something she didn't.

"You may follow us in yours if you like," said the German Fae. She was glad for it, she was used to Dave's truck at least. She waited until they had gotten in and he'd started the engine before talking.

"You know I hear things I shouldn't sometimes. Right?" she began.

"Is THAT what this is about? You heard something you shouldn't?" he demanded.

"Er… maybe," she sighed.

"Fucking hell, Heather," he growled. He didn't often say the F-word. She knew he was aggravated, but it was only for her safety.

"They drove in silence after that, and he didn't say anything else until the truck stopped again. She knew they hadn't driven very far, but she also knew they'd passed her own apartment, and even Dave's home. She listened; she heard crickets and traffic far off in the distance, but that was all.

"You know I only get this cranky because I worry about you, you know that right?"

She smiled and reached out to pat his hand and got his arm instead, which was fine. "Yeah, I know. I'm like a surrogate wolf puppy," she smirked.

"Seriously?"

She laughed and got out of the truck, pulling her thin sweatshirt zipup around herself. It wasn't cold but there was a slight breeze.

"We're at a Fae house, outside the reservation. Remember, whatever happens, don't agree to any deals and DON'T thank any of them," he reminded her. She sighed.

"I know, I know, Dave… I've been hearing about the Fae my entire life, I know the basics," she shook her head. She allowed him to lead her into the building. There were three steps up and then she was inside. She didn't get much chance to explore, because she was led directly into a room off to the left, and gently sat down beside what felt like a small window. The house lacked any homey smell. She didn't smell any food or residual that seemed to float around when families were involved. Instead she smelled lakewater, fire, the ocean and leaves. Very soothing smells to her, but it told her something else too. There were a lot of Fae here.

Things were quiet, but then she felt Dave lean over her and breath near her ear. "I'll be just in the next room, all you need to do is holler if something goes wrong," he assured her. And then he left.

She wasn't afraid, but she was a little nervous. One by one she heard them approach, at first just the Glamours. There was a small person, a child and most likely a girl, a couple of fully grown men, one noticeably heavier than the other, and then the strangest thing, the flap of wings.

She looked towards each of them in turn, listening to their every weight shift. Of them all, only the child didn't move. The taller of the two sat down very near her and she smelled lakes on a hot summer day and fresh growing things. It was a tranquil sort of scent, but just beneath it she thought she detected a hint of real power. This one whoever he was could be dangerous. The one beside him, the other man was easier to get a hint on. She smelled through his glamour almost right away and immediately got the smell of the sea, ocean spray and damp sand, kelp and low tide. Not unpleasant smells again, and again that sense of possible danger. All of them radiated with it, even the child. The flap of wings suddenly turned into a woman's voice, age indeterminate. So some kind of shapeshifter then.

"You said she was blind, Mike, not helpless," scoffed the woman.

She could smell Mike now, and tell he was standing as far from them all as he possibly could. His voice sounded steady and melodious as always and almost immediately she felt like smiling. Something in the way he smelled though said that he didn't want to be here.

"Blind humans are nearly always helpless, and true she doesn't sense as much as you do, but she could be useful".

So Uncle Mike HAD sold her out. She wasn't sure if she should be annoyed at the hypocracy or worried that he wasn't nearly as benefactory as she'd at first assumed. She ought to tread carefully here.

"What is this all about?" she finally decided to ask. She pulled her hair away from her face, baring one side of her neck, and heard a mutter off to her left.

"So many freckles," said a man's voice, the one who smelled like summer lakes. His voice wasn't surprised, or curious, but surprised. Like he didn't see things like full-body freckles everyday. She had them everywhere, she knew, from head to toe, belly back and everywhere in between.

"Irish," she smirked at him with a shrug. "Can't help it". She thought it would get at least a smile out of Mike, who'se accent could be mistaken for nothing BUT Irish, but he didn't say anything.

"This is ABOUT things you may or may not have heard correctly while... working," said one of the men, the taller one, who she decided in her head to refer to as Ocean Man until further notice. She was surprised by his accent; merry old England, like he was fresh off the boat.

She put on an unassuming face and crossed one leg over the opposite knee, feigning ignorance. "No idea what you think I've heard or not. I was advised to keep what I tend to overhear quiet," she insisted.

"Humans and their lying," said the child. Her voice send shivers up her spine that had nothing to do with how cold this place was. It was emotionless and spoke of centuries of active cruelty and punishment. She was no child. Out of everyone here, she decided she wanted to be most afraid of the girl.

"Not lying. Just ommitting the truth. What is it you think I've overheard?" she asked.

"Don't play stupid, little girl. The Breeding Law we are imposing for the first time in nearly twenty years. We're dying faster than we can reproduce, day by day. We know you aren't new to this information. We asked you here-,"

"-Ha, ...asked me," she interrupted.

There was a very icy pause, and then the Lake Man continued. "ASKED you here, to do us a favor of sorts. Since you seem so adept at hearing things you ought not to".

"Not my fault some of your guys talk loudly," she muttered.

Mike said something in Gaelic under his breath, and she sighed. "I don't understand Gaelic, Uncle Mike, if you want to warn me to tread carefully or something, you may as well just say it out loud in English," she sighed gently. She kept her tone of voice quiet and not unkind. Uncle Mike managed a little chuckle. He was standing all the way on the other side of the room.

"You see what I meant?" he asked the others. "Ears like a bat".

"Oh, but if only I could fly like one," she smiled a little whimsically.

"We're off topic," yawned the Ocean Man. He sounded amused, but boring fast.

"Quite," said the woman. "We propose a work exchange of a sort. You see we have a little... problem that is so far eluding capture. We have no solid evidence as of yet, but suspicions are high enough that the person in question is avoiding us. We want you to take up a position at Uncle Mike's Tavern and see what you can overhear".

She thought this over for a moment. On the one hand, working at an all-Fae bar sounded pretty exciting, but she liked it at Dave's, and besides the fact, the Fae could be very dangerous. And some of them were known for hating humans.

"I'm human, and blind, and I don't blame you all, but there are a lot of Fae who hate us. In what way would I be safe working at an all-Fae bar? And besides the fact that a lot of the older ones never really speak English unless it's to be courteous. Sorry I'm the monolinguistic type," she ticked off on her fingers. "Thirdly, no magic, and no way to defend myself if things get out of hand".

There was a slight pause and she rather thought she could hear Mike smiling from where he stood all the way over there. He had some kind of charisma magic, she decided right then. She never seemed to be worried about anything in his presence. They were offering a business proposition, but in a way it was also blackmail. She knew something that they didn't want anyone knowing about. She'd have to wait and see how things played out.

"You raise valid points. But as you very well know, we Fae cannot lie, and we are bound to our word. If word is given that you shall not be harmed when working for Mike, then you will be as safe as if you were home. As for the humanity of the issue, I have a solution," said the Lake Man. He seemed to be the one in charge despite the obvious power she could feel baking off of the others. Either this man was not as powerful, or he hid it better.

"... What sort of solution," she frowned, looking only vaguely in his direction.

"A tonic of sorts. It's designed to help humans, not harm them. It'll take away the human scent and make you appear to be Fae," he said blithely, as if it were no huge deal. The others didn't seem to show any surprise at the news.

"... when you say appear to be Fae, you mean...," she waved vaguely at her face as if to indicate physical appearance.

"The effect seems to vary from individual to individual. Mostly you remain the same, but sometimes there are... things," she could almost hear him shrugging.

"And does it wear off?" she asked.

"So many questions," huffed the Ocean Man.

"I like to know what I get myself into," she shot back. "I've never dealt directly with the Fae before".

"To answer your question, yes. It wears off after a few hours. It can be made to last a full work day if necessary. The way we see it, you really don't have much of a choice. If the other humans knew how vulnerable we really were, despite all our power, there are some who woudn't hesitate to add us next to the dinosaurs," he growled. "You can do this favor for us, or we can become... unpleasant".

She glowered at him, though she was terrified deep down. They wouldn't REALLY... would they?

"The local pack likes me, wouldn't they have something to say about it?" she asked.

"Bah... another one who loves the werewolves," said the child with apparent disinterest.

"They just sort of... adopted me. I didn't exactly ASK,..." she defended herself. She decided she needed a moment to think to herself.

"What sort of thing would I be listening for, exactly?" she asked.

There was another pause, as if the others were discussing how much to tell her precisely, but then Uncle Mike spoke up.

"If it's accurate info ye' want, it might be best if she knew ev'rything," he smirked.

"I agree," she said immediately.

The child spoke up then.

"Humans from in and around Finley are disappearing, or else winding up partially devoured. They reek of our magic. We're fairly certain there's a rogue Fae wandering around eating people, and we can't have that," she seemed to smile. Her voice sounded a little to falsely sincere for Heather to feel any better about the news. Her words didn't lie but her tone of voice implied sarcasm.

"So you think this idiot will just wander into a brightly lit tavern and brag about how he snacks on wayward tourists in the off hour?" she raised an inquisitive eyebrow. That got a chuckle from the Ocean Man as well as Uncle Mike, and she giggled a little herself. She wasn't usually so bold when faced with danger, but she supposed any defense was better than none.

"It's been known to happen on occasion, and really what choice do you have?" asked the Lake Man coldly. He took her by the wrist and pressed something bottle-shaped and cold into her hand. It felt about the same size as an old-fashioned coke bottle but it was full. She couldn't smell through its glass.

"The potion. You werewolf outside has already been made aware of your temporary exchange. I suggest you speak with Mike if you need to know more. Keep what you hear silent unless alone with one of us. We will be checking in now and again. And do stay safe," said the Lake Man.

She was about to say something else, but she got the sense that the meeting was over. The little girl was already walking away and Uncle Mike was approaching her. She heard the others begin to file out, and right away heard the heavy clunk of Dave's work boots. Now it was just the three of them.

"This is moronic. They want you to eavesdrop on a psychotic child-eater," growled Dave.

"Well, plus side, they're doing SOMEthing?" she suggested.

"Aye and they were right about our word. You'll be as good as safe if I make it so, and I will," Uncle Mike put a gentle hand on her shoulder. She gave it a pat and sighed in a dejected sort of way. His fingers were short and thick and she had no doubt his hand was connected to an equally beefy arm. She decided not to go "sightseeing" with her hands the way her friends let her.

"Any kind of uniform?" she may as well ask. At the moment she was wearing a girl's forest green t-shirt that only reached the side of her ribs, exposing musch of her belly, and th green petal skirt that stopped just above her knees. Rainbow knee high socks and a shamrock pin bearing her name completed the ensamble.

"Ah... you sure you want to draw that much attention to yourself love? You've got friends at Dave's place, but sure as daylight not many are going to want to come to your aid at mine," he said, a little worriedly. "I DO have a uniform, but I daresay ye' wouldn't care fer it much. Anything green'll do, lass," he gave in finally. She got the feeling he was being nice to her because of her unique predicament.

"And, um... I hate to be a pain, but would it be possible to get to know the place while it's closed, so I'm not a complete moron when it gets busy?" she asked. Dave had done the same thing.

"Sure thing, an' I'd be glad to show you 'round. Sooner the better," he put a gentle hand on the upper part of her back to guide her outside, and Dave quickly took up her other side. She sighed.

"I brought my cane, you know...,".

There was a smile in Dave's voice.

"We know".


	3. Swap

They weren't taking her back to her apartment, as it turned out. Instead they went directly towards... well, they weren't telling her where. Mike was behind them in his Explorer was all she knew. She had no idea why the Fae liked big SUV's. Maybe the bigness distracted them from the steel they were built on top of. Gas prices be damned.

"Where are we going?" she demanded for the third time since departing the meeting house.

"Uncle Mike's," he finally gave in.

"Already? It's got to be almost eleven," she frowned.

She heard Dave sigh.

"I got a more thorough rundown than you did, apparently. They want you under Fae supervision at all times. Personally I think it's a way to get all of them to know you're available as a potential mother," he growled.

She stared at him.

"I know it's a breeding law, but even the Fae have some manners. And they promised no harm would come to me," she pointed out. "I think that includes stuff like rape".

"More than likely, but the more you're there, the more Fae will see you, and don't take it wrong, but you're very pretty, and very memorable. One of them's bound to take a liking to you".

"You say that like finding romance is a bad thing," she pouted.

"It's NOT, Heather, but ... I don't trust the Fae and you shouldn't either is all I'm saying. I'm trying to convince Uncle Mike to keep you, I at least know him and as far as Fae go he's not a bad guy. I'd rather you stick with someone I know than someone I don't".

"What are you, my father?" she smirked. She was half joking, but the tone of his voice said he was very serious. He took her hand in his while he drove and said "you're as good as, and the minute anything happens I'll have half the pack there".

She was surprised to feel a tear sting her eyes, and she smiled. "Thanks, Dave. That... means a lot," she sighed. She had never known her father; the last time she had seen or heard from hers was when she was a little girl.

"I know, kiddo. "

The rest of the drive was silent. She held the cold bottle of potion that Lake Man had given her and wondered just what it would do. She didn't have to wait long. The truck stopped, and she slid out, keeping a hand on the side of the vehicle until she heard Uncle Mike's Explorer come to a stop beside them. The tires crunched the gravel, and she heard his door open. She let go of Dave's truck and offered a smile, but she didn't know or care if Mike saw it.

"I suppose I should say I've never had a human working for me before. At least not in this glamour's lifetime," he sighed.

"I'll try not to advertise my humanity," she blinked. Deep down she was a little excited, working with the Fae, who had always interested her, but mostly she was nervous. What if she was found out? It might be construed as what was known as a forfiet, requiring repayment for the stolen hospitality, but it also meant that she wouldn't be safe. She'd have to start acting and quick.

She was led up the stairs and through the single door and found the tavern very eerie when it was dark and there was no music or voices or sounds. It still had a lingering scent of hot wings and other grill fare. She smelled some sort of lemony cleaning solvent too.

"Anywhere in the place is fair game, if ye need to look 'round. I'll be in my office havin' a talk with Dave, you can holler if you ned anything," said Uncle Mike kindly. His voice washed over her like honey and she couldn't help feeling at peace despite the previous inner turmoil of a few moments ago.

She waited until they went, and then helped herself to looking around. She started off running her fingertips along the walls at the outermost perimeter, to get a feeling of how big it was. It was pretty sizeable, but not as big as Dave's place. Next was the bar, where she guessed she'd be spending much of her time. It ran the length of the lefthand side of the tavern and was quite spacious, but piled high at the back wall with both the taps and various liquors. Her explorations also showed her where the glasses, other alcohol, coolers, washrags, water spigot and door the the kitchens was. The kitchen turned out to be very space-efficient, if not terribly large. An entire wall was taken up by sinks, grills and freezers. There was a door leading from the kitchen to another, smaller area which turned out to be full of crates and totes. Storage she guessed. She found only one door from here and it turned out to lead to a sort of... stage setup, she thought.

She found the edge the hard way, by falling off of it with a cry of surprise.

"Whoa!" she yelled as she went down. She prepared herself for a long fall, but was pleased to find that the stage was only a foot and a half off the floor.

She heard footsteps and suddenly she was being helped up bu thick, strong arms and short, powerful fingers. The scent that washed over her told her it was Uncle Mike.

Standing up again she righted her clothes and managed a nervous laugh.

"Heh... I found the stage!" she said brightly.

Uncle Mike just chuckled. "That you did, lass, that ye' did".

"Be more careful, Heather,..." Dave sighed. She huffed and made her way to the opposite side of the bar, feeling around with her cane. Chairs, tables, and a lot of them. She felt a slight draft and could tell there were windows in the place but not very many. She thought she had a pretty good layout but only time would tell.

"So you'll promise you'll keep her safe?" Dave said, now speaking to Uncle Mike again.

His voice didn't sound very happy when he answered, but he did answer.

"Aye, to the best of my abilities, I will. You're just lucky I have a good report with your pack,".

Heather wanted to know what was up but she thought she'd wait until Dave took his overprotectiveness and left. Once he finally did, after a hug and a forehead kiss, she turned towards Uncle Mike with her arms folded. She still held the bottle that Lake Man had given her.

"So... uhm...," she began.

"The Grey Lords, as much as I dislike them, have a point, girlie. This rogue has to be stopped and I can't think of a better way than for someone like you to keep an ear out. But that doesn't mean I can have ye puttin' yourself at risk, and they want you under supervision at all times anyway. An' it looks like I'll be it. Now you can't be on the reservation, but I got a cot and some things down cellar. You can stay here until they're done with ya," he explained. His voice was gentle enough but it was clear he wasn't very happy. She wasn't either.

"What about my apartment, clothes, my dog?" she protested.

"Dave says he'll take care of all of that. I know it's not the best setup, but you'll be safe here," he replied.

She decided to sit on one of the chairs and rested her head on one hand with a sigh.

"I have a feeling my first night working here isn't going to be easy," she guessed.

Mike chuckled a little.

"I'll try an' stay behind the bar much as I can to help you out. I can't lie, but you can. I wouldn't tell anyone you're here on orders, mind," he cautioned.

She grinned.

"I was thinking about that. If this stuff does anything to me outwardly, I can just say I don't like hiding what and who I really am, and if it doesn't, then this-," she indicated her own body, "- is glamour, right? Just another new hire," she grinned.

"Aren't you a clever one? But it's best to get ready, I'd take a sip 'o that now if I were you," he smiled.

She frowned.

"It's got to be almost midnight, you're opening now?"

He sighed.

"For an hour or so. I do have money to make after all," he replied. She heard him walk towards the bar, and probably out back to start warming up the grills, and she decided to uncork the bottle.

She took a sip grimaced, tryign to fight down a gag. It tasted about how she thought marshwater might taste; gritty, dirty and with a little bit of what she could only think of as slime. She was so glad she couldn't see what it looked like, because she swore there were chunks of... unidentifiable something in it.

"Ugh!" she gagged. Her throat closed up and her stomach wanted to rebel, but she managed not to yak all over the floor.

She tried to get her breathing under control, but it felt as if her skin was squirming. Bugs were crawling all over, her scalp, her arms and legs, her thighs, and everywhere in between. ACK, It itched so bad! She spent a few moments scratching in the more decent places and whining because she couldn't scratch the indecent ones.

Something expanded within her chest, like when she drank whiskey, which wasn't often, and her neckbones and ribcage creaked. Struck by a sudden urge to stretch, she did. What the hell was happening to her? But her curiosity was soon answered, because Mike came back out.

"Alrigh', I've got an apron here if ya want one, and news travels fast... I'd prepare if I we-" he stopped dead, noticing her.

"Please tell me I'm not dying," she groaned. She certainly felt like it. Her scalp still itched, but it wasn't just hair she was feeling. Something thick, like stems, and leaves that she could feel every bit as well as her own skin. She stopped dead, too, and her eyes went wide. Her fingers flashed down the length of her hair, and yes the stems and leaves traveled all the way down like strands of the stuff... and there was so much more of it. Her hair had been down to her waist before; now it felt as if it had grown nearly down to the backs of her calves!

"... That stuff did something to me, didn't it," she said bleakly.

Mike didn't answer her, but she heard him walk across the floor towards her.

"Stand, that's it," he said suddenly. He took her hand, and she stood up. She felt... slightly taller, and her head felt strange, almost heavier. Aside from that, she felt more or less the same as always.

"What'd it do to me?" she asked, with the air of one who just wanted to get the bad part over with already.

"Ya really want a description?" he asked. Something was off about his voice... like he was staring and not really paying attention.

"Yes," she folded her arms.

"Well, ya still got the freckles, but you're skin's a rather lovely shade of blue. Ya got antlers and leaves growin' out of your head, but I surmise you got that part. An' your eyes glow," he pointed out.

She groaned. Not because she was annoyed or disappointed, but because she really wanted to see something like that.

"Antlers? I hadn't noticed that...," she reached up to the sides of her head and felt hard, pointed tines. They felt more like tree limbs or thick branches with pointed offshoots than deer antlers, about the width of one slender wrist. They were only about a foot long.

She felt her own face, the way she would have felt anything else. Her eyes were two times bigger than normal, and slightly more spaced apart from each other. Her nose felt the same but her lips were a little bigger. Her face hadn't changed much. She ran her hands down her collar, quickly over hre breasts, and down her hips to her thighs

"Not much different... I can live with it," she grinned finally.

"Yer a rare sort. Most humans'd be dead scared to work at a fae bar, and even moreso to feel what's happened to them," he admitted. She heard, faintly, the sound of tires crunching on gravel. It seemed news did travel fast. Someone was already here to drink.

"An apron if ya like, tonight shouldn't be too bad," he repeated. He found a hand and pushed it into it, and she felt it a moment. It was coarse, canvas and she draped it around her neck and tied it around her waist. She made her way back to the bar and started working just as if she were at Dave's; washing her hands, cleaning a glass, or wiping down the bar whether it needed to be wiped or not.

She heard the door open. It was a male, slight of built but tall, but that was all she could tell until he spoke. He sounded like a teenager. She knew he could be any age.

"Fergus, hi," said Uncle Mike.

Fergus? Not a very commonly-heard name these days. But he evidently worked here, because she felt him walk behind the bar. She kept to her own space, setting a couple of glasses down and placing out some coasters she found. She felt him looking at her.

"New hire?" he asked. It took her a moment to realize he was speaking to her. She looked towards his direction and nodded. Had to act like a Fae, she told herself.

"Yes. New to the area," she said.

He paused for a moment.

"I don't know if he mentioned it, but most people who come in here keep their Glamour up. Not a bad idea," he warned her lightly.

She turned her face more towards his voice, and put a slightly glazed look on her face very much on purpose, so it would be obvious that there was something not working about her. "I prefer not to hide my face or what I am. I'm mostly harmless," she let her lips form a slight smile.

"If you insist," was all he replied.

She wondered if she should think up a fake name, and decided that most fae now chose human names anyway. "I'm Heather," she said finally.

He had gone out back, probably to get changed or something, and said , "Fergus. I'm one of the bouncers,".

"I'm best left behind the bar," she smiled, and waved a hand in front of her eyes once, lazily, to indicate why.

"...You're blind?" he asked.

"Mmm," she mumbled.

She felt him lean a hand on the bar and instinctively, she backed up ever so slightly. He smelled like mossy earth and skittles. She didn't know what to make of that. "Word of caution. Avoid being slow around Cook. She doesn't like newbies," he told her.

"I'll bear it in mind," she nodded.

He left her to keep up the pace, so by the time the first customers got there, she was quite familiar with the area she was standing in. As expected, she got the most comments on the fact that she was choosing to work without a glamour. She told them the same thing she had told Fergus, that she wasn't ashamed to be what she was and refused to hide behind a mask.

"Freaking Dryads," she heard one of them mutter before taking his beer and wandering off. Music began to play, something that sounded like Bon Jovi. It felt more like a bar now.

One person in particular, a shy-sounding man who decided to stay at the bar and sip at a screwdriver, was making pleasant enough conversation.

"If you don't mind my questions, what sort of Fae are you? I don't think I've seen your like before," he asked. His voice sounded gentle and he smelled like roses and freshly cut grass. She got a very nonthreatening vibe from him and she liked him right away.

She frowned. "Y'know I don't know. I'm only half fae and I never knew my father. I put down "River Dryad" on that stupid legislation requirement," she waved it off. She was basing that off the apparent fact that her skin was now blue, and someone before had called her a dryad. She knew they were tree guardians. The rest of it came naturally enough, though she hated lying to the little guy.

He chuckled to himself.

"I put down "lawn gnome"," and he started to laugh. She caught herself chuckling, too.

"Leave it to the humans to categorize everything and try to fit it into their preimagined universe," she smirked.

"I will drink to that," said the man. He clinked his glass against the one she was currently rinsing out, and she smiled. He knew she was blind.

"I assume you work with flowers?" she asked.

"Garden sprite," he replied.

She smiled at that, and was called away to pour a drink for a heavy-sounding woman who kept calling her 'duck'. She frowned at the nickname, and forced a small smile on her face, though not too large. She knew her eyes were glowing. She was hoping that if she looked like one not to be trifled with, well, then no one would do any trifling.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Rum and Coke," she said.

Without a word, Heather turned and ran her fingertips along the bottles. She wasn't as familiar with the bottles here as she was with those at Dave's, but eventually she found the raised figure of a pirate, and took down the bottle of Morgan, filled it halfway, and grabbed the soda tap to fill it the rest of the way with Coke. She stuck a lemon wedge on the edge of the glass and passed it along the bar, carefully.

She gave the woman a polite nod and went to wipe the counter again but the woman called her over yet again.

"Oy, Dryad," she called.

"My name is Heather," she tried not to sound too grumpy.

"Whatever, you can go back to your trees in a minute, bar's closin' at 2. You new?" she asked.

She nodded and pushed a stray leaf out of her face, and set about cleaning another glass.

"Where from?" she asked.

Crap, better make up something clever.

"Louisianna," she replied. It was hot and marshy and leafy, she'd be none the wiser.

"Hmf. Gimme another," she grunted. It seemed to be going around the bar that the new barlass who refused to wear a glamour was blind.

"Gladly," she nodded, and she did. She hadn't insisted on a tip jar, and Mike hadn't mentioned anything about one, but to her surprise, once everyone had gone for the morning, she had just hung up the apron in the kitchen when Mike stopped her and pressed a wad of cash into her hand. She frowned in confusion.

"Tips. I don't advise leavin'em out in the open," he reminded her.

"Honestly I wasn't expecting any," she shrugged.

"Bah, nonsense. Kieran seemed t'like ya," he chuckled.

The name struck a cord of memory somewhere and she frowned.

"Kieran? The same one the Grey Lords decided to out first? Public court cases lasted weeks?" she asked. It had been huge news. The entire world had watched as the poor gardener had been asked to hold the metal garden shears that had murdered his very rich employer, and have his palms blister in an instant from the cold iron. It was when the Fae had chosen to come out publicly and naturally, things had been an uproar.

"One an' the same. He doesn't come around much anymore, but he just may if he finds a new friend," said Mike.

"It was before I was born, but I heard all about it, obviously," she replied.

"Despite the interruptions, not a bad night. Come on, I'll show ye where you can sleep. It's where I'll be sleepin' till this business is over, too. Right here," he led her over to stand in front of what turned out to be the stage. She heard him tap around a moment and then a squeal of wooden hinges.

"Trapdoor in the floor leadin' to a cellar. I'll go down first, just hang on," he told her. She waited, feeling very creepy with the lights off in an empty, warehouse-sized bar. It had once been a warehouse, so she had learned.

"Slowly, now. I'll catch ya," he called up.

She knelt and felt around with her fingertips until she found the opening. A few inches down more and she felt the first rung of a ladder. She felt fingertips brush hers, and she decided to sit on the floor and dangle her legs down. She still wore a petal skirt.

"I'm gonna pick you up, don't kick," he warned her. She gave an unwitting chuckle, and let him grab her round the thighs, and the more she slipped through, the higher they got until he had her by the waist. It was only about five feet down, but still.

"It's not very accomodatin', but there are beds an' a stove, blankets an' such," he said. Their voices sounded oddly muffled down here and it smelled like all cellars smelled. Musty, dark and a little damp, but at least it smelled clean. She got a sense she was in a very large area.

He led him over to a corner of the room, and she felt her toes hit the edge of a mattress or two. She layed down on it and was glad to find a thick, warm blanket. It felt like silk covered in lace and it felt stuffed full of down. She grinned to herself, and fought to get her hair out of the way. There really was a lot of it.

"I'll be sleepin' not four feet away from ya, an' there's a restroom at the other end of the cellar. There's nothing in the way... really wish I could be more accomodating, but... things what they are...," he trailed off.

"It's fine. It beats concrete and no blankets." she replied.

The last thing to occur to her was, it was odd that after hours her appearance hadn't gone back to being her normal self yet, but in a moment she was asleep and it didn't matter.


	4. Glamourous

She was awoken at some point, but she wasn't sure what time it was. It was always dark in the cellar, and there were no windows, but one glance towards the only light she could see, presumably the trapdoor through which they'd come down. She could see shadows, and the difference between light and dark. The vague square shape she saw was lighter than the darkness around her, so she assumed it was either early dawn or morning.

She wandered towards the other end of the cellar and found a plywood stall with a rickety door. She could smell the toilet. It wasn't dirty-smelling, but she caught cleaner and the sort of disinfectant that only bathrooms invited, so she did her thing and figured she'd wash her hands later when she could.

It wasn't until she crossed back over towards the cot that she realized her hair was still down to the back of her calves. She reached a hand up to feel her scalp and caught hair and thin ivy stems, leaves and the foot-long stick antlers. That damn fae potion, she cursed mentally. She'd have to ask Mike why it hadn't worn off yet. Speaking of Mike…

She caught his now-familiar scent but it was different, more relaxed than she'd ever smelled it while he was awake. There was earth and more springtime alongside the pine, and she caught a very faint scent of maple. It triggered memories of climbing trees in springtime and breathing in the warming breeze as a kid, one with nature and all that. He was mumbling, though nothing in English. She decided to listen for a moment before gently bending down to nudge him. His shoulder felt strange; bigger than it should've been and strangely mossy, like she was running her hand along the ground or the side of a mossy tree. Was he without his glamour?

She didn't want to catch him unawares if he didn't want to be "seen" glamourless. She gave him a slightly firmer shake. "Uncle Mike…. Mike? You're dreaming, wake up!" she said. Her voice wasn't a whisper but it was thick with sleep, slightly groggy.

She felt him stir beneath her hand and all of a sudden something about the size of a two by four slammed her in the jaw and she fell backwards on her ass with a cry of surprise more than pain. She landed on her hair and her weight tugged painfully on a strand of ivy leaves. She was too stunned for a moment to move, only stare wide-eyed towards where she knew he was sleeping.

There was a grumpy exclamation in what she assumed was Gaelic, and suddenly the sound of creaking and shushing was replaced with the sound of human knees hitting concrete. He took her face in his hand a moment and moved it to the side. He hissed an intake of breath.

"Sorry, I am sorry, I didn't mean ta hit ya, you alright?" he asked. He sounded… more worried than he should have, unless whatever he'd hit her with hadn't been a hand. It'd felt more like a tree branch.

She moved her jaw a moment and opened her mouth a few times.

"I'll have a bruise but I'll live. Still have my teeth. What'd you hit me with?" she grumbled, rubbing her face.

"Ehh…. Let's just say I've got antlers of my own," he sighed.

She stared. "Must be some big antlers… I was trying to wake you," she finally stretched with her arms high above her head. She yawned and took a moment to feel around her mouth with her tongue for the first time. They felt mostly normal if her upper and lower canines were, and were surrounded by more pointed tines.

"Ah, they're big, and maybe someday I'll let ya see me, but it's still early yet. I won't be openin' until after noontime. I've got some things I got to do, an' unfortunately I've got to take ya with me," he sighed. He didn't sound happy about it.

"If it's any consolation, I can't see any big bad fae secrets?" she offered.

"An' that's another thing we got to do," he said. She felt him pick up a strand of ivy, gently touching one of the leaves that grew from her scalp. It didn't feel icky or bad but it was a little ticklish.

"Find out why I still look like this?" she assumed.

"Exactly," he agreed, letting the leaf fall.

"I don't suppose you could try a glamour?" he asked.

She stared at him.

"The stuff I drank makes me smell different, look different, but I don't really feel different. Only thing I find bizarre is I can feel the leaves… like touching skin," she frowned slightly and fingered one of them. She was pretty certain that fae magic was beyond her. She was just plain old human.

She felt hands on the outside of her shoulders. His skin was warm.

"Try… " he urged.

She frowned.

"How would I even do that? I don't know how people access magic and I definitely don't know how to wing fae magic," she pouted.

"I don't expect ya to, but maybe it's possible. Not many knows what goes into that stuff they had you drink," he said. "Calm yourself, clear yer mind an' try to think of somethin' happy," he told her.

She snickered.

"Think happy thoughts, really?"

She thought she could feel him frown.

"Sorry… okay, relaxing, happy memory, got it," she sighed, and she remembered the maple scent mixed with the pine. Right away she was back up in that tree outside her old house, where the leaves were new, the bark was dry and the breeze was balmy; inspiration and beauty that she could never put into words and it had always irritated her that she couldn't translate it. Then her mind jumped and she was on the beach, where they had piles of rough-cut boulders stacked high or else lined up along the sand and she would leap from rock to rock, her feet two steps faster than her brain, and then she'd run along the beach in the surf as fast as she could and then faster, until her legs burned and the landscapes were a blur. She'd felt free, utterly unchained, and in control and she tried to let that feeling spread through her entire body.

"Easy, lass," said a gentle man's voice, and she frowned slightly. She was so caught up in the memory that it was distant, unimportant.

In her mind she was running just because she could, the water cold, the sand hot, the sky bright and no worries, none at all.

"Easy," he said again, slightly more urgently.

She wasn't aware of much but there was a small smile on her face. The rocks felt rough beneath bare, pale freckled feet. Her skin had been peach then, not blue. That little girl had no antlers or green freckles, she'd had peachy skin and shorter red hair, a carefree attitude and a sunny smile.

"That's it, think harder," said the voice again. Who the hell was that and why were they intruding on what were, to her, the happiest memories she could come up with? But thinking harder wasn't a bad idea…

"Stop, now, that's good," said the voice again. Why though, her mind said? It was sunny here and she was happy, but then "Stop it, Heather, that's fine, more than fine." Why, though? This had been before her accident, when she could still see the world in all her beauty, from the lush greens to the sunny seas, but something didn't feel right.

"Heather, enough!"

The harsher voice broke her out of it at last and she was back in that musky cellar, blind once more. Something felt odd about her hair, and the leaves in it that she could feel. The vines were all entangled.

She felt fingers gently prying the tendrils out from around what turned out to be, him. In her stupor somehow she'd managed to curl all the foliage in her hair around various parts of his body until he was tangled up in it. She began helping him.

"Sorry, sorry, I … how the hell did I even do this? I didn't think I could move them…," she frowned as she fought to tug a curled shoot from around one of his fingers.

"Aye, and you had a glamour up for just a moment, too, so you CAN do it. This is odd. You shouldn't be able to," his voice was more than puzzled it was worried. They both struggled to unentangle all the vines, until she figured out how to move them all on her own. It was beyond bizarre; it felt rather like trying to wiggle her ears, but only a slight command and she felt them all untangle themselves and retract on their own.

"Beyond odd. I think we should probably speak to some people. Starting with Lake Man," she growled.

Uncle Mike managed to laugh.

"Lake Man? You mean Beauclaire?" he asked with a snicker.

She frowned.

"Well, if they aren't going to give me ANY name, I'll damn well name them myself, and it'll stick and serve them right," she huffed irritably.

That made him outright laugh, and she eventually started to giggle with him.

"Hey, it beats Creepy Girl and Sea Man," she giggled.

"Ah, you don't want to let Edyth or Trent hear ya call'em that," he suddenly smiled.

"Edyth?" And Trent… alright, well who was the crow woman?" she asked.

"There'll be time for all that later, for now, let's get some breakfast an' go see Beauclaire. He made the drink, he can tell us why it's actin' strange," he interrupted.

She decided not to call him on his deliberate change of subject, and instead decided that breakfast sounded great right about then. She frowned a moment and tried to bring up a glamour again, remembering what she had looked like the last time she had seen herself; a gawky twelve year old girl with freckles everywhere, wavy bright copper hair that reached her elbows and two different colored eyes. She remembered she'd been wearing a blue zipup sweatshirt that was so big it hung off one shoulder and a pair of hip-hugger blue jeans that day. She decided to find her own way up the ladder this time, and her appearance seemed to surprise Mike.

"Yeh picked a child?" he asked.

She got to the top, and brushed herself off. She felt like she had when she was a kid, she realized; shorter than normal and a little awkward, but still blind.

"Well, yeah. It was how I looked the last time I ever saw myself, what was I supposed to go with?" she asked. Geez even her voice was different. She managed to laugh.

"This is insane, how does this even make sense... so I changed my entire body, it's not just a hologram?" she asked.

"Ah, think of it as a really convincin' costume," Uncle Mike smiled.

She thought about that for a moment and felt her body for a moment; it felt like it had when she was 12, C-cups and all. She frowned. "That is also a little odd, but… useful I suppose. Can't go out in public with leaves for hair," she smiled.

"Well you could, if you didn't mind starin'," Mike conceded.

"When I have Ellie they stare anyway," she shrugged. She heard him close the trapdoor and then the front door. A rush of cold morning air wafted in and she shivered; all she had was her zip-up sweatshirt. It was closing in on November and up here that was chilly.

"We'll be meetin' Dave while we're out, my truck is nice an' warm don't you fret ," he assured her. She followed the sound of his footsteps, using both her cane and her hearing, and knew when he had gotten to the explorer. She opened the door was met with the smell of leather, and the rest were all him. His scent was all over the vehicle, and it took her a moment to orient herself. For a moment she'd felt as if she'd stepped into a forest, not the parking lot or an SUV. Finally though she hopped in and buckled up. She always buckled up, and had ever since her accident; it had been because of lack of a belt that she had crashed through the windshield and headfirst into that tree in the first place.

"So breakfast, what d'ya fancy?" he asked cheerfully.

She shrugged but then thought of something.

"Breakfast sandwhiches are okay if you're talking like out somewhere, but feel free to surprise me," she smiled.

She heard him put the truck into gear and then it was off. It rode smoother than Dave's truck and it was easy for her to forget for a moment that she was even in a vehicle. She found herself leaning her head against the window, the glass cool against her forehead, the heater blowing warm air over her bare arms. It wasn't until the truck stopped and she heard a voice over a loudspeaker that she realized he'd gone through a drive-thru. He ordered himself a veggie sausage and cheese biscuit and some hashbrowns, and got her the breakfast sandwhich she'd wanted with some browns of her own, and he drove off with the entire truck now smelling of deep fried breakfasty goodness. It blocked out all her other senses for a moment and she couldn't help but smile.

"I know it's bad for me, but damn if it doesn't smell amazing," she confessed, fingering the edge of the paper bag.

"Go on an' eat, love I don't mind the mess," he told her. She plucked out what felt like a hashbrown and picked at it, thinking as he drove and she nibbled.

"Few people lastnight thought I was a Dryad," she said suddenly.

"Did they now?"

"Mmm," she mumbled.

"Well, ya don't really look unlike one, but they don't leave their trees often, "he told her.

She smiled.

"I mean, I like trees, I would never set one on fire, but I wouldn't live IN one either…," she trailed off.

This made him chuckle under his breath.

"Ya can call yourself whatever ya wish to, I don't rightly know if the registration people'll come after you. We'll find out soon enough," he made another turn and then stopped. She felt a draft of cold air. He'd rolled his window down to talk to someone.

"Uncle Mike… and guest?" asked a voice she didn't recognize. It was a man. He smelled like sweat despite the cold, and she caught a whiff of lunch meat. He was probably human; he lacked the scents she associated with the Fae.

"Aye, she's a friend. Say hello Heather," he said jovially.

Heather gave the window an energetic little kid's wave and a big stupid grin that was missing a tooth near the side. It made Uncle Mike make a noise that could've been a stifled snicker, but it sounded like a 'heh'.

"Does she have ID?" asked the human.

Heather shook her head. She'd left her purse at the tavern, and anyway the image she bore now wouldn't match the one on her id card.

"Why would they have humans guarding the Fae? What is it, a reservation or a prison camp?" she asked Uncle Mike quizzically, but loud enough for the guard to hear. They were obviously just outside the Walla Walla reservation, not far out of Pasco.

"I don't trust her… you'll keep her in your sight at all times?" asked the guard.

Heather was about to say something but he put a hand over her mouth, and she was too surprised to say anything.

"Ya, those are my orders anyhow, just visitin' a friend," he spoke for her.

Eventually the guard let them through, and she heard Uncle Mike sigh.

"You should be careful around here… that sort of attitude may fly past a human's head but there are a lot of Fae who wouldn't overlook the rudeness," he cautioned her.

"Just think it's dumb, why can't they just give you equal rights and status and stuff and leave you in peace?" she huffed, folding her arms.

"Would that they did, Heather… you aren't the only one to wish it," he said heavily. "I'm taking you to see an acquaintance of mine who knows how that potion works. I was going to take you to Beauclaire himself, but I don't like dealing with the Grey Lords if I don't have to," he added.

"Will they be able to tell why I haven't gone back to human?" she asked.

He parked in what felt like a short driveway and helped her out of the truck.

"That is the plan".


	5. Sole Beneficiary

He insisted on walking with her until they got to the door, but before he even knocked she heard someone on the other side of it. Mike had just enough time before it was opened to whisper a hurried caution to her.

"If ya happen to smell or feel through the glamour on the inside, don't give any indication, an' watch yer tongue when ya speak to her, she may take offense- Mornin' Biddy!"

She'd heard the name thrown around at the tavern the night before. She knew "Biddy" was another bouncer who worked for Uncle Mike.

"Uncle Mike, what an unexpected visit… and who is this?" she asked. She had a deeper, gravely voice. It put Heather in mind of an equally big owner but the woman's footsteps told her she was five and a half feet tall at most, and not overly heavy for such a height.

"Might we come in? It's 'cause of her I need to talk to ya," said Uncle Mike. He put an arm around her little-kid's shoulder, and she was surprised to feel not-unlike she would have back then- as if she was either in trouble, or about to become trouble.

"Course," said Biddy, and Heather felt her step aside.

The minute she walked in, her senses were assaulted with what smelled like incense; cinnamon or something like that, and popular incense rarely had just one scent. Beneath it she caught the smell of woodsmoke and blood. She sincerely hoped it was beef blood or the like and not human but then she thought if it WAS human, surely someone would be made aware by now. Or not. She had to remind herself why she was in this position at all- the Grey Lords wanted her to keep her ears and other senses out for a people-eater. Not necessarily purple.

"Sit, lass," said Uncle Mike and he directed her to a chair. Here it smelled more like fire and less like blood. She was thankful for it.

"So to what do I owe the visit?" she asked.

"Heather, ya can drop the Glamour if you like," said Uncle Mike.

She wasn't sure how to but then she just imagined herself as she knew she was, a 26-year old adult version of the child she was pretending to be. The weight of all that hair and the antlers, tendrils of ivy brushing the floor told her she still appeared to be Fae.

"The new bartender?" asked Biddy. She came out from the kitchen and took a seat opposite herself and Uncle Mike.

"Aye… she overheard some things the Grey Lords weren't happy with and decided t'put her … skills to better use, keepin' an ear out for whatever's huntin' and eatin' the humans around Pasco and Finley," said Uncle Mike.

"And someone gave her a Lookalike potion. Why hasn't it worn off?" asked Biddy.

"That's sort of why we're here…," said Heather with a slight grimace. She fingered a long strand of ivy, covered in leaves and let it fall. It felt a bit like someone picking up a finger. "I don't mind all of this, but I'm kinda human".

There was a pause for a moment while she thought, or so Heather hoped she was doing. She said something in a different language, to which Uncle Mike replied in kind. It wasn't his usual Gaelic, though it sounded similar; possibly Gaulish.

"Hey, English here…," she reminded them, though she wasn't sure if it would annoy Biddy or not.

"…..Apologies. I was just reminding Uncle Mike that he didn't really need to drag you all the way here just to get a second opinion. You can use Glamour. With or without potion that's strictly Fae magic. If you can use it, you must be Fae." Said Biddy at last.

Heather took a moment to think about this. Never in her entire life had she been able to so much as straighten her hair let along do anything like what she'd been doing since drinking that stuff, it was insane, and yet… they always did say that Glamour was what made the Fae, fae.

"That's ridiculous, my parents are both human, I'd know if I was Fae, or even half," she frowned. Then it occurred to her that she never really had known her biological father…

"Don't know what else to tell you, girly. You can use glamour, which means you're not entirely human. The Lookalike potion was designed strictly for human consumption. Maybe it just latched onto the fae inside you and dragged it to the outside," she could practically hear the woman shrug.

"So… I look like this for good? This is the real me?" she asked. She was toying with a strand of ridiculous hair as they talked. It was all her own, but so damn long. Maybe she could use the vines and all the extra hair and braid it…

"If it's not more glamour, then I'd say yes," she replied offhandedly.

She felt Uncle Mike put a hand on her shoulder, and she just sat there, absorbing the news. Because of some stupid potion, she was… well no that wasn't completely true. She'd said that if she was using glamour, then she was at least part Fae, and the potion had no effect on magic. Glamour was magic that the potion didn't have any effect on. It meant that she was, must always have been, at least part Fae. She frowned to herself.

"I never did know my biological father… Last time I saw him I was 6," she admitted quietly. "I wonder if there's a way to find out if he's Fae,".

"What's his name?" asked Biddy. Surely all Fae didn't know each other across the entire country?

"Thomas LaCroix, last I heard," she replied.

"LaCroix?" said Biddy sharply.

"What about it?" she frowned.

Uncle Mike gave a sigh.

"He was Fae, alright, love, but I've got bad news for you," sighed Uncle Mike.

Heather let out an annoyed sigh.

"Lemme guess. Dead," she huffed.

"Couple years, I'm afraid. Wrapped in Iron chains an' strapped to the steerin' wheel of a car, dumped in the river," he replied.

"Creative," was all Heather could say, though her expression was a little dark. Yes, it would've been effective. She knew nothing about the man at all except that he was her father, but if the water hadn't done it, the iron would have. Fae skin blistered and burned at the touch of the stuff.

"… We didn't know he had a child," said Biddy softly. "It wasn't far from here, made pretty big news. I'm surprised you didn't hear about it".

"I only just moved here from Oregon," she admitted dully.

"That'd explain it. Tommy was always the quiet sort. He left behind a few things, y'know. We didn't know he had a child. By birthright they're yours if you want'em," said Biddy.

She frowned anew at that. It was all a little fast, first the knowledge that she was half fae, and now that not only had these people known her father, but now they had things that had belonged to him? She shook her head and rubbed at her temples.

"Talk about overload,…." She muttered.

"I know it's a lot to take in, lass, but slow is the best way," sighed Uncle Mike.

So she was Fae. Half blood or only part, the Fae counted them all among their numbers. Having fae blood made you theirs. Her father was dead, and he'd left her some things, whatever they were.

"What sort of Fae was he," she asked finally.

"Forest lord," said Biddy. "The gentlest I ever met. Rumor was he got himself mixed up in some sort of vampire affair and they didn't like something he did," she almost snarled.

Heather had never met a vampire, but she knew they existed. It was something else that powers that be elsewhere probably didn't want her knowing about. From what she'd heard, they were a nasty, beauracratic sort. Blooded newbies belonged to and could be controlled by whoever made them but they all formed seethes, or nests. She didn't think it sounded as glamorous as the media portrayed them to be.

"I've heard a lot about them. I can say I like them even less now," she was surprised to find herself growl. She'd never growled in her life.

"Perhaps later I'll tell ya a bit more about him, love, but for now we have the answers we came for. Did ye want what he left behind?" asked Uncle Mike gently.

"Yes,' she said without hesitation. She wouldn't be able to see whatever they were, but if it was a part of him, the fae part, right now she wanted all she could get to learn.

"I'll be back," said Biddy.

"Why does she have them?" whispered Heather only once she couldn't hear her footsteps anymore.

"She an' your father were close friends back in the day. I'd say it was a coincidence, but sometimes things do happen fer a reason," he whispered back.

"Horse shit," she huffed.

"Now what kinda language is that? None 'o that, now," he scolded her gently.

Soon enough Biddy came back, and she handed something to her. It felt like a walking stick. The wood was smooth and oddly soft, and it was warm at her touch. It had a twisty sort of feeling to it, all the way around and she could feel strange runes carved into it at ribbon-like intervals. They sort of tingled.

"Walking stick?" she asked with a slight frown. It was strange to her, but it almost seemed to like being in her hands.

"One of a few old Fae artifacts. The Grey Lords wouldn't be happy knowing I'm giving it to you, but you're it's rightful owner. It seems to be happier," smirked Biddy.

"It feels like magic… which is weird. I've never felt magic. What does it do?" she asked.

"It'll lead you home no matter where you are," said Uncle Mike.

"Hm… useful I suppose. Is there anything else?" she asked.

"He left two other things. I can't give you one of them because it was destroyed and is sitting in a junkyard. His car. Obviously you can't drive it anyway. There was also this," she handed her something small and square, expensive-feeling paper. Something was written on it in gilded letters but it wasn't English.

"What is it?" she asked. It felt like a business card.

"We didn't know he had a child, but he obviously did. It says "emergency". Some Fae put their favors in the forms of little cards like these, it was a popular thing just after we came out into the open. Favors owed and whatnot, for when we weren't always around to do them, you know. With him dead, it won't have the kick it would if he were alive but it could still be used. For small things, obviously," explained Biddy.

If the card contained her father's own magic, then it was priceless to her. She didn't have her purse or her wallet with her, so she tucked it into her bra strap with an odd feeling. For someone she hadn't really known, she mourned his loss. She couldn't really explain it, but holding the stick, and taking that card… it was almost as if it were him, giving her a little wave from wherever it was the fae went when they died. She was surprised to feel a tear slip down her cheek, and she hurriedly wiped it away.

"I know how you feel," sighed Biddy. "Your father was a good friend of mine".

"He never told you about me?" she asked.

"No… sorry," she said. There was real remorse in her voice, so Heather knew she meant it.

"I wonder why …," she muttered.

"He was mixed up with the vampires. My bet is if they knew he had a weak point, and a child would've been a weak point, they would've exploited it," said Uncle Mike.

"That's horrible," she growled.

"Aye, and that's another reason I detest the vampires," he agreed.

"Was that the only reason you came by?" asked Biddy.

"It was, and we appreciate it," said Uncle Mike.

"Especially me… really," she added in. She stood, and was pleased to find that her father's walking stick was just the right height for her. She thought she might even prefer it to her blindman's cane, but if this thing really was made to guide people home… unless she was headed back to her apartment. But then an old adage popped into her head and she was surprised to hear it wasn't her own voice, but a man's.

Home is where the heart is.

Well her heart certainly wasn't at her cruddy apartment, but it gave her a gaping wide loophole. Wherever her heart's desire was to be, she guessed this walking stick would take her there. It was nice to know.

As Uncle Mike led her back to his truck, she was quiet.

"I'm sorry ya had to find out like that," he said to her finally.

"It's fine. At least I know now. So I'm half Fae. Does that mean the Grey Lords own me, too?" she huffed.

"I wouldn't put it quite like that, but yes. They have the power to do what they will to keep ya in line," he replied as he started the engine again.

"Great. Well there's good news. I wonder what other kind of magic I can use…," she wondered aloud.

"Well I'd imagine we'll learn in time. For now I've got to run to the bank, an' then we'll go and see Dave,' he told her.

"I think I'll take a nap," she sighed, leaning back into the comfortable leather seat and relaxing.

"You do that love," he told her.

She closed her eyes, and the lull of the engine coaxed her mind to slip away.


	6. Full Shift and Drinks all around

She didn't know how long she slept, but the steady rumble of the truck kept her relaxed and at peace. She had some strange dreams, full of adult memories in childhood settings, and a faceless man with blistered skin kept weaving in and out, muttering strange things in a language she didn't understand. But the one thing that stood out above all was the forest. It was enormous and ancient and so full of life, not just the trees but she got the sense there were fae, all around, other fae who had power over growing things. And the same voice that had told her home is where the heart is, talked to her. She still didn't understand it, but the voice was a comfort in itself. Eventually it started to sound like Uncle Mike, and she realized he was shaking her awake.

She opened her eyes, startled into dropping her glamour, and of course she couldn't see again. She liked her dreams; the world was how she had remembered it, but now she could make no more visual memories. It was just another reminder that she wasn't completely whole.

As sad as she was to leave her dream world behind, Uncle Mike's voice reminded her that the real world needed her and time had passed. She yawned and stretched as long as she could before fumbling for the door handle. She got the sense that it was later, how late she didn't know.

"It's nearly time to open. I went to see Dave, but he didn't want me to wake you. He says he's taken your dog to the vet and everything seems alright. He also gave me some clothes for you, and a jacket," said Uncle Mike.

She shut the door to his truck and used her father's walking stick to climb the stairs to the tavern.

"You want to be careful who ya let see that, love," he warned her.

"Someone would steal it?" she asked worriedly.

"I didn't say that, but it could happen. I've a safe in my office you could keep it in if ya like," he offered her. She knew most safes were made of Iron and steel. She wondered how he used it.

"That works I suppose. How do you have a safe? Aren't they made of steel and stuff?" she asked.

"Most are, but we fae work in all areas these days. There's a line of nearly everything made of metal that's made instead of safer alloys and hard plastics. My safe is as safe as any made o' steel, I guarantee ya," he told her.

She handed him the walking stick, but he gently pushed it back towards her.

"You know, magic has its own flavor… I get the feelin' that walking stick doesn't want to leave your hands for the moment. Best if you placed it yourself, mind. Follow me, and then you can help me get the place ready or openin" he said.

She put a hand on his shoulder as he walked off, and he led her over towards a part of the bar she hadn't been privy to yet. She got a sense it was a decent-sized room. He led her around what felt like a polished wooden desk.

"It's open if you want to place it," he told her.

She found the recess in the wall, and gave the stick a kiss, before placing it in. It seemed an odd thing to do, but it felt right. She couldn't explain it.

Uncle Mike didn't comment on it.

He handed her a stack of clothing that she recognized. The smooth, well-worn cotton of a long nightshirt with an obscure cartoon character on the front that she liked to sleep in, her favorite black tank top and a green t-shirt with big daddy's logo on it, and a couple of skirts. He'd also included some underthings. It was a mark of how much she liked and trusted Dave that she didn't mind the thought of him going through her underwear drawer.

"I'll get changed, and help you with whatever you need. First full shift," she smiled despite herself.

"Aye, and it'll be a rowdy one. But first thing's first…," he said. He opened a door, and she wondered for a moment, but then he handed her something else. Another t-shirt? No… some sort of long dress.

"I do have a uniform, dear. I wouldn't force you to wear it, normally, but seeing as you're no longer in need of a physical disguise, perhaps a believable dress?" he suggested.

She had set her own clothes down on his desk a moment to feel through what he'd handed her. It was a dress of sorts, but there was some kind of fabric with lacing that she couldn't make sense of, and some kind of shawl, again which she couldn't make much sense of.

"I might need some help…," she told him.

"I'll be happy to," he told her.

He let her be so she could dress in his office, and she managed the dress just fine. It fell off her shoulders slightly and left her entire upper back bare. He wound up having to help her with the whatever it was that went around her waist, which turned out to be a mini-corset of sorts, though it wasn't genuine; it was just for show and didn't squeeze at all. It turned out the shawl tied around her hips, long on one side like a tartan. She didn't miss how he smelled closer up as he put his arms around her waist to tie it.

"There. And you do look lovely," he complimented her. Seeing as the Fae couldn't lie, she believed him.

"Heh… thanks," she replied.

She felt a finger on her lips then.

"None of that, now, you know better. I know you do. You're lucky I'm not the sort to take advantage," he said sternly.

She thought she took him by surprise when she decided to hug him. He certainly stiffened a little, but eventually he returned the gesture, with a pat on the back.

"C'mon now, off with ya, we got a bar to open after all," he reminded her.

"Right….," she smiled.

She felt… lighter somehow, now that she knew her place better. No longer was she some blind human working at a werewolf pub in Washington State; Now she was a half Fae contracted to work at a Fae tavern to gather information on a Fae serial killer. She had to keep an ear out, too, now that she didn't have to lie any more. She really was Fae now; she had as much right to be here as any full blooded Fae.

She took her place behind the bar again just in time for the first couple of people to come in. It was Fergus and Biddy, and then the quick-footed heavy man who insisted only on being called Cook. When she had asked why, all he had said was "it's what I do, innit? Mind yer own" and that had been that.

She said hello to Fergus and Biddy. She'd decided to forego the glamour; even now that she knew how to put one up, she had told many lastnight that she didn't like hiding behind a mask, so she couldn't very well contradict herself. She took a quick minute to braid her hair with the ivy strands, using four strands instead of just three because there was so much of it. Her fingers were quick and she draped it over one shoulder. She didn't have a hair tie, and before she could wonder what she could use in its place, someone stuck an elastic over one hand. Surprised, she looked around for all the good it would do and heard Fergus' voice.

"I have long hair in my true form. I always keep an extra just in case. You can give it back to me when the night is done," he mumbled, because just then someone walked in for drinks.

"I'll do that," she said with a nod, and with a quick snap the braid was done. Braided it went from calf length to about hip length. With the ivy woven in, and the unusual dress she felt oddly… pretty.

She got to work, and Uncle Mike had decided to take up a position beside her. "If ya hear anythin', keep it quiet until everyone leaves," he whispered, and she nodded.

She didn't hear anything unusual, but she certainly heard a number of disturbing things. The Breeding Law was imposing stress on a lot of Fae, it seemed. Some of them talked about paying humans to carry their offspring, but she overheard one bragging drunkenly to a friend that he'd already planted his seed by force. She had tried to keep a blank face. She'd mention it to Uncle Mike along with a description of the man's scent and if he perhaps knew who she was talking about. She didn't know what Fae policy was on rape, but she didn't think it flew any better than with the humans.

She heard quite a lot of good things, too. Some talked about work, some talked about Underhill, which she knew was commonly called Fairyland by the humans. She didn't hear anything worth filing away for later until a snotty sounding man sat down in front of her and ordered a screwdriver.

She slid it over to him, and he grabbed her wrist out of nowhere.

To her credit, she didn't react as she had when the other man, Cabrille had done it. Very calmly, she leveled her eyes at him and said quite coolly, "let me go, please".

There was a silence and she felt a sort of tingling that she instinctively didn't like. She grasped his hand with her free one and she wasn't sure how she did it, but she didn't want that magic near her badly enough that she did something to him. There was a sound like static discharge and he threw his hand off with a strangled hiss and a curse. She felt an adrenaline rush and rubbed at the offended wrist.

"Hsst, now what's goin' on?" asked Uncle Mike.

"Nothing at all. I was just serving this man his drink and moving on to the next customer," she said aloofly.

"One feisty barmaid you got there, Mike," said the man. His voice was still rather unctuous and she disliked him on the spot. She decided he was the first suspicious case she'd gotten all night and resolved to keep an ear on him.

"So you know, magic is forbidden unless it's self defense," Uncle Mike told her as she went to the left to pour someone else a beer. She listened for the sound it would make when it got full and nodded.

"It WAS self defense. He grabbed my wrist," she huffed. "I don't know what I did but I didn't like the feel of his magic" she muttered.

"Just… be careful, lass," and that was all he had time for because he was needed out on the dance floor for something or other. There was a heavy metal band playing that she rather liked, though she didn't know the name of the band. But if they were playing here, they were either Fae, Werewolf or some other type of supernatural. Their noise filled the tavern and despite the rude, snotty sounding man with the screwdrivers, she felt light on her feet and happy doing something worthwhile. She served drinks with a smile more often than not all night long, and by the end of the night had a jar full of tips. She had no idea how much she'd made in the past two nights. Normally she had Dave count her money for her. She thought she'd get Uncle Mike to do it this time.

The bar didn't close until 2 in the morning and she was surprised to find that she wasn't all that tired despite the long day. She helped Cook and Biddy clean up the bar and gave Fergus back his hair tie, before snatching the plastic tip jar that was at her station. Uncle Mike had stuck a popout sticker on it just so she'd know which one was hers.

She waited until Fergus and Biddy left and then it was just she and Uncle Mike.

"You weren't kidding," she smiled.

He was silent for a moment before answering her.

"I rarely kid. Ya need help?" he asked.

He meant the tip jar. She held it out for him and he took it, starting to count for her.

"I didn't hear anything particularly damning, but someone was bragging to his friend that he raped a woman to outwit the breeding law," she told him.

"It's disturbin', I know, and believe me I intend to notify the Grey Lords but there's naught you can do about it, love. There, not a bad turnout. Ya got $40 from the lastnight an' $245 from tonight. Yer a good bartender," he grinned. He handed her the money back and she smiled. That was more than she normally made in two nights at Dave's place.

"So uh… does this new law apply to just the old, fullblooded fae, or the half bloods too?" she asked.

"Ah, now that I'm not sure. I believe it's the fullbloods and some of the halfbloods, but lesser bloods are safe," he told her.

That was worrysome.

"Well,… now that we know I'm half fae, mind reading me in?" she asked. "What's the deadline, what happens if you don't meet it? "

He took a moment to reply. She thought perhaps he was worrying about it himself. She didn't know how old he was, but she was willing to bet ancient and she saw how others reacted to his presence; he dominated the place and they all knew it. He never even had to raise his voice. He seemed to have a charismatic power that made itself known in nearly everything he did, everything he said.

"The law went into affect six months ago. I believe the deadline is the end of this month. If ya don't at least have a significant other who's able to carry, then I think they make ya pay a heavy fine. Lot of the older fae have a lot of money, but a lot of us don't. If you've got someone by the first deadline, they expect a pregnancy pretty soon after, " he replied.

She blanched.

"You mean I have to find a boyfriend or at the very least a sperm donor by the end of THIS month?" she cried.

He chuckled.

"Sperm donor's a bit harsh, isn't it?" he snickered.

"What? I know human reproduction, I've no idea how the fae do it…," she huffed.

"Not often, is how we do it. I'm not exempt from this damned law and neither are the Grey Lords. Some of them already have children. An' between you and me I can't afford their damned fine," he grumped. For the first time she heard something besides amiable charisma in his voice. He was really worried.

"If YOU can't, I KNOW I can't…," she sighed.

They were both quiet for another moment. She tucked her money into her purse and thought about what it all implied. She didn't have any shortage of male admirers but for obvious reasons she didn't trust people easily. And it wasn't called a breeding law for nothing, the Fae's numbers were far too few, they needed to repopulate. Being half human, she'd breed faster than a full blooded Fae female. As far as breeding stock went she was now prime beef.

"We'll worry about that when it's time to worry, I suppose, " he said at last. For now, was there anythin' you wanted to do before we turn in?" he asked.

She sighed and rubbed at her temples.

"At this rate, I think it'd be easier if I just lied," she sighed.

"You really shouldn't… the truth is a powerful thing, and you are half Fae. If you can't at least respect the truth, you should at least respect that half of your heritage, love. We cannot lie. And we're very good at spottin' it when people do," he said firmly. His words made her feel guilty, and she lowered her gaze. She mumbled an apology, feeling really bad about even suggesting it. There was no reason for it except his tone of voice. He was right, though. Lying would be wrong. It'd be cheap and unfair to everyone else who had to suffer however-many-months it took for Fae to carry to term.

"I can't think of anything I want to do before turning in. I'm not a big party person. I wouldn't say no to a drink, though," she admitted.

He clapped her on the shoulder and left, and when he came back she smelled vodka and cherry syrup. She accepted it gladly, and downed it in one go. He'd added extra syrup and sprite and gone easy on the vodka, she was grateful for it.

"Delicious," she smiled.

"Ahh, I do agree," he set his glass down.

"So ah… bed now I guess," she said.

There was an awkward sort of silence.

"Have some more awkward silence, I can make more," she joked.

"Oh, it's not you, just… the previous topic of discussion, you know. I don't often talk about sex," he admitted.

"I do sometimes. Dave used to tease me because it's been over a year for me," she huffed.

He was quiet for a moment.

"If you tell anyone I said this, I'll find a way to deny it. It's been nearly a decade, me," he replied.

She stared at him.

"You're so… kind and… charismatic, why?" she wondered.

He laughed good-naturedly and patted the back of her hand.

"I'm pleased ya think so, Heather, really I am. But no offense meant, you don't know much about the real me. The face I show to the world is just a bartender. But I am the Green Man. There's only one of me now. I am ancient, and I am powerful. It's not a wise idea to give somethin' like that anything to love an' care for. It's one reason I've not reproduced in my long, long life," he explained. "But I fear this time I'll have little choice, like so many others. And really it's for the good of all our people".

"I can get that… course, my role in all of it'll be harder. I never considered having kids," she sighed.

"Well, you may as well get used to the idea, you aren't alone," he replied.

"Yeah… I know now," she shook her head.

There was silence for a moment more.

"Bed?" she suggested.

"Yes I think so…. So long as you don't surprise me tomorrow morning the way you did this one, eh?"

"I didn't know!" she protested.

He got up and led her back to the trapdoor, helping her down once again. Only once they were both curled up on their respective mattresses did he speak.

"Perhaps tomorrow I'll show ya what I mean by Green Man. For now, sleep. It's been a long day" he said.

"You're not lying," she sighed.

He was silent and then he chuckled.

"Didn't you know I can't lie?"

"Everyone finds ways to lie, they just dance around it," she smirked.

"You learn quickly. Goodnight Heather".


	7. Dreamland Comforts

She went right back to that ancient forest in her dreams and everything was more vibrant than she remembered them being. The greens seemed to vibrate in her eyes and even the dirt seemed more multicolored than she remembered it. This wasn't a nap and there was no truck engine lulling her softly. She was deeper under this time, so maybe that was why she could now see the face that had spoken to her before. Was she hallucinating, because she had now been told about her father, or could it be possible that he was actually communicating with her?

He stepped out from behind a tree and she stared; she had never seen anything like this before her accident. He was man-sized, around six feet tall and his skin was willow-green. He had humanish features, though his eyes were overlarge and a pure, liquid amber color that never existed on the human spectrum. His fingers were overlong and ended in points and his hair more resembled Spanish moss than anything. There were crisscrossing scars over his shoulders and chest and his palms were burned. He just stood there, looking sad. She looked down at herself and saw blue skin and green freckles. So she was her Fae self.

"…Dad?" she asked. Her dream voice was softer than in real life and a breeze blew through the clearing, carrying the scent of pine, honeysuckle and maple. Uncle Mike's scent. Odd that it would be here so far in her dream.

"I'm sorry you never got to meet me, my daughter," and yes it was his voice, the same that had spoken to her before. This was unreal, she found herself thinking. Things like this didn't happen. Maybe it was a Fae thing. She walked towards him a little, but he stopped her with one hand.

"Is this real?" she asked. "You're dead. How are you here?"

"All things I wish I could tell you. I don't know myself. I just know I can't be here long. There are so many things I wish I could tell you," he sighed.

"Vampires," she growled.

"Vampires," he agreed, fingering one of the long, vicious looking burns on his arm.

"I hate them for this," she hesitantly touched the same burn. It felt blistered and raw and she winced.

"It seems a silly thing, now. One of their seethe wanted special landscaping done, and my work displeased their queen. They made an example of me," he told her.

"That's horrible! So they strapped you in iron and sank your car to the bottom of the ocean!" she sputtered.

Amber eyes flashed momentarily yellow and he laughed. It was an oddly pleasing sound, like listening to the tree boughs creak in the wind, deep like that.

"If I could tell you anything before you awaken, my child it's this. Don't feel too strongly over what was done to me. It's done and past two years now. You know now, and you have my walking stick. You can always find this forest in Underhill if you wanted to. I can't promise that I would be here, but it was always my favorite place to think. I suspect those who live here would remember me in you," he told her.

She could feel, distantly, that she was crying as she slept though she was dry-eyed in her dream. There was an odd, hollow ache that had nothing to do with her dream, either. And she knew it was a dream, but she hugged him anyway. In an instant he was just another tree and faceless, and then she was staring at darkness again. Awake, blind, in the cellar of a Fae tavern, accompanied only by the steady drip of a leaky tap somewhere, the howl of the wind outside and the gentle snores of the man tasked with watching her.

She found that her face was wet, and she wiped her face off with the back of her arm. Her father's voice, impossible but she knew it now, still rang in her ears. She felt odd; sadder than she'd been for years. She was struck by the sudden inspiration to climb in beside Uncle Mike and curl up against him for comfort, but she didn't know him well enough. If it were Dave she wouldn't have hesitated but Uncle Mike… she didn't want to scare him off and with as long as she'd known him, it might freak him out.

So she curled herself into a ball, latched onto that sad, hollow feeling until her heart ached and let herself cry. Perhaps she needed it. She nearly never cried, and she'd never met the man in person but the father in her dream was real enough, and as close as she'd get. So she cried.

At some point she wasn't aware of, she realized too late that she no longer could hear Uncle Mike snoring. It never occurred to her that meant he was now awake. She felt a hand on her arm, just rubbing from shoulder to elbow in a comforting manner and shooshed her in Gaelic. She'd never heard his voice this soft before. There was that warm, honey-toned charisma to it again, but she didn't need that right then. She did appreciate the warm gestures though.

"Enough o' that, lass," he said softly. He gently touched her cheek and wiped a few tears away.

She knew he wasn't wearing a glamour, because she could hear leaves again. She touched his hand and followed it up his arm. She felt smooth, unmarked skin and what could only be moss. The moss gave way to lace-like grass, short and soft. His shoulder. She decided to hell with it and latched onto him anyway.

To her surprise, he didn't push her away, but folded her up, curling an arm around her and rubbing her back. She was wearing her favorite sleepwear t-shirt, the cotton worn thin and soft from too many washings. It was overlarge on purpose and normally left one shoulder bare, hanging to her knees. He was gentle with her for all his body felt like solid muscle. She could smell grass, now, too. Oak leaves and the gentle scent of flowers mixed in with the piney, honeysuckled scents. He just smelled like a vibrant, gentle forest. She let herself get lost in there for a moment.

He rubbed her back and stroked her hair, shushing her in senseless Gaelic until she stopped crying and then she just layed there. To his credit, she let her.

"When you said maybe you'd let me see you, I didn't have this in mind," she said finally, with a weak laugh. She was trying to break the tension, what tension there was. He gave her an extra squeeze and let her go, if she wanted to. She didn't really want to, but she backed off a few inches.

"I was dreaming of a forest. I guess it was in Underhill. I could see again," she began, wiping her eyes. She told him about what she'd seen, and what he'd said

"That sounds like him," said Uncle Mike with a wistful sigh.

"Can dead Fae usually come back from the dead?" she asked.

Uncle Mike gave a chuckle.

"With magic, who can tell? I've heard stranger things. Perhaps some part of him is still in Underhill," he suggested lightly. "I know the forest you're talking about. I'm not sure how you could be dreaming about it if you've truly never been to Underhill. Perhaps it's his blood in you,".

They were silent for a moment more, and she decided to take advantage of the situation. She had a hand on his chest. She felt bare skin, but the more she moved her hands, she could feel short, fine moss all the way up to his neck. It was soft and tickled a little. He layed there and let her do what she would.

From his chest she spread her fingers out to his shoulders and forearms. More moss, short, lacy grass and towards his stomach, slender, very short fine grass. She stopped at a decent point before going anywhere near his hips. She moved her hands back up towards his face, and here she had to go slower. He had a beard, and that felt normal. It was braided into bunches, reaching nearly down to his breastbone. There were oak leaves laying on top of it, and then she felt his lips. The weren't too big, or too small they just were. He kept his face expressionless, she noticed. The majority of it, cheekbones, a large, wise nose, eyes, was all smooth flawless skin.

She felt hair from his temples leading down to his beard; it put her in mind of how the old Irishmen used to wear their facial hair and she smiled a little. To the sides of that were leaves. There was beech, maple, oak, all kinds. She ran delicate fingertips over what turned out to be tiny flowers growing near his jaw. He did have hair, but it was twined through with what felt like grass and roots. He did indeed have antlers among even more leaves. They curved away from his temples and forehead like thin tree trunks and ended nearly four feet out like a stag. Tiny new leaves were sprouting, though she got the feeling they never grew bigger.

"Beautiful," she smiled at last. She got the sense of what he looked like now.

"Ha…. You aren't the first to think so, or say so. I don't often let my glamour fall," he admitted. "Usually only when I sleep".

She rested her hand on his chest again and let her head relax once more. She just layed there and breathed in his various scents that all just equaled out to him. "I'm sorry I woke you".

She felt his hand stroking her hair again like any concerned party would do and he said, "it's no bother, lass".

He must have been lying on the concrete beside her mattress, but despite that she didn't have to reach down to touch him. He must be either very big, or just very wide. He didn't leave her side, though. She wondered at it. Perhaps he just wanted to make sure she went back to sleep okay.

"Would ya like me to stay here till you fall back asleep?" he asked at last.

She wasn't sure she wanted to go back to sleep but she had a feeling with his particular brand of magic it wouldn't be an issue.

"What IS it about you that makes me want to relax, smile, talk, just chill out?" she asked finally.

He hadn't been expecting that, and he laughed. It didn't sound like his usual laugh; it was deeper and more jovial sounding and for a moment he just chuckled at her.

"I keep forgettin' how little you know," he said at last. "Charisma magic," he added. "I can charm my way out of an iron tank if I feel I need to. Make no mistake, I'm one of the more powerful types you'll find. The old druids used to worship me as a deity, though I'm just another Fae," he smiled.

"You're that old?" she asked.

"I watched them build Stonehenge," he seemed to be grinning. She reached up and ran delicate fingertips over his mouth; he WAS grinning.

"Can I just… stay like this for awhile?" she asked at last. She was lying mostly on the mattress bed, but her shoulder, face and half her torso rested against his bare chest. He was comforting and she could smell him all day long. Her left forearm and hand rested beside her face against his right pec.

She felt him put an arm around her and draw her up close and she decided to return the gesture with a silly, stupid little giggle. That came right out of nowhere, she'd never giggled like that at just a hug. Maybe It was because he was shirtless and she wasn't wearing pants… but that was ludicrous, he was just comforting her.

"I take that as a yes" she sighed.

"Long as ya like," he said gently. He rested his chin atop her head and she nuzzled his chest. It felt oddly intimate and she wondered what he was thinking about, if anything. He wasn't touching her more than was necessary and she didn't smell that musky, sneaky scent she associated with lust. He just smelled like contentment. That was a relief. She wouldn't have minded intimacy but they hadn't met all that long ago and she didn't think he was the type to take advantage of a situation. Not consciously anyway. She closed her eyes and let herself drift off again.


	8. Not exactly whitewater rafting

The way she fell back to sleep was the way she woke up, except at some point, the ivy vines in her hair had entwined themselves through his antlers, around his torso and against his face. Her cheek was nuzzled up close to the mossy surface of his chest; she was nuzzled up good.

She was awake, but she didn't want to move. He smelled so relaxing and she was in that state of "deliciously warm" between the blanket and him that she would be disappointed to ruin it by waking him up. She did gently uncurl the ivy creepers though. She didn't know if they could be broken off like a real plant or if they were more organic, and a permanent part of her. She didn't want to find out the hard way.

She remembered how she'd woken him up before and been rewarded with an antler to the jaw so she decided to let him wake up on his own. She knew when he did, because she could hear his heartbeat through his ribcage. She felt it speed up ever so slightly when he realized she was still curled up against him and she could feel his pulse beneath the fingertips of the hand that was curled up on his side.

"I know you're awake," he said. His voice was a rumble first thing in the morning, but no less him.

She breathed deep and gently pulled herself away from him just enough to roll slightly and stretch. Her nightshirt rode up to her hip and she sat herself up with her legs crossed. Her nighty wasn't long enough to cover up everything, but she was wearing panties. With as old as he was she bet he'd seen enough to make her hair curl.

"Guilty," she yawned.

She arched her back and stretched again with her arms above her head, just to get all the kinks out and turned her head towards him. He didn't put his glamour back up right away. He seemed to be thinking. At any rate he wasn't moving.

"What's on your mind?" she asked finally.

"Hm? Ah, just thinkin' an old man's thoughts love, don't you worry your pretty head," he gave her shoulder a squeeze. He stood to his feet and she heard him stretch.

She decided to join him, and was the first to climb her way out of the cellar trapdoor. She pulled herself up and back into the Tavern to find that there was a light already on. This puzzled her, as she could remember turning them all off before retiring. Then she heard someone shift their weight to her right and she froze, turning her head. Her neck muscles went a little stiff. She could smell someone in here who shouldn't have been. Marshland, low tide, water lilies.

"You're not supposed to be here," she said loud enough for Uncle Mike to hear.

For whatever reason, he was still in the cellar.

"Now now that's not very hospitable of you," said a man's voice and she knew it. It was the same snotty man from the night before who'd grabbed her by the wrist. She didn't want to be caught pantsless around this one, but she knew she wasn't alone and this thought gave her a little strength.

"I'm not hospitable when the tavern is closed until noon and it's apparent you broke in," she folded her arms. Her hair was still half in its braid but it was mostly fallen-out. Anyone looking at her would be able to tell she'd just woken up.

"Heather, who're you talkin' to?" came Uncle Mike's voice at last. She heard him ascend the ladder and pretty soon he saw who she was talking to.

"Kornak! What are you doing in here?" he demanded.

Apparently Uncle Mike knew this man. She remembered him as sounding snotty. He hadn't lost that, but apparently he hadn't counted on Uncle Mike being there either.

"A shame. I was hoping she was alone. I wanted to talk to her," said Kornak.

"I wouldn't talk to you alone if my life depended on it. I don't trust you," she folded her arms.

Uncle Mike touched her arm and leaned in close.

"Kelpie, and a nasty-temper. I wouldn't anger him, just now," he muttered to her.

"We're closed, Kornak, and I'll appreciate it if you don't break the door down again. You know's well as I you're welcome to a drink when the place is open fer business. Leave, an' I let bygones be bygones, you hear?" said Uncle Mike angrily.

"Fine, fine… I want no quarrel with you, Green Man. I only wanted to have a word with the beautiful forest queen," said the Kelpie.

Forest queen was kind of a high title, and she wouldn't give it to herself, but then she didn't know what sort of fae to call herself. She was half human.

"You want to talk to me, Uncle Mike sits in, and it can be done when we're open," she said coolly.

"Fine… I see I'm outvoted. I'll pay to fix the lock I broke. This is the last you'll see me here I promise," said the Kelpie. Fae couldn't lie. She knew he wouldn't show his face in the bar again. Why had he even come at all and what did he want to talk to her for? Kelpies were water Fae, and not the safe, tame sort. She also knew they were far and few between these days, a lot of them were gone. What would one want with her, whose affinity seemed to be plant life?

She waited until she heard his footsteps fade and his scent dissipate, before she turned towards Uncle Mike, that rescuer-of-dreams.

"What would a Kelpie want with me?" She asked.

"They're dangerous folk, and always hungry. They prey on the weak and have been known to eat humans. But I've never heard of one eating other Fae, and you're Fae," said Uncle Mike. He sighed as he walked around examining things.

"Normally I'd file a complaint but he said he wouldn't come here again… I believe him," he said.

"Forest queen, ha. My father may have been a forest lord, but I don't look much like a tree. I don't even know what kind of magic I have" she pouted.

"Well you'll figure it out in due time, lass. In due time always. Well, I suppose I need to make a trip to the hardware store. I hate goin' there, so much that'll burn… damn the industrial revolution," he sighed. "Was there anythin' you wanted to do?" he asked.

She thought about it for a moment. She'd almost forgotten about the deadline for the breeding law, and she still hadn't heard much worth noting while working. She shrugged.

"Nothing that can't wait until whenever," she said. "Uhm, about lastnight…".

He was quiet for a moment, as if he were remembering the almost-intimate contact.

"It's alright, Heather, haven't I told you once never to thank a Fae?" he seemed to smile.

She grinned

"Maybe I wouldn't mind owing you a favor," she raised her nose in the air as if she knew something he didn't. "You're not the malicious type to make me pay your rent or wash your truck".

"Ah, I wouldn't make yeh do that….," he muttered.

She walked towards the bar where she knew he was standing and felt for a moment until her hand rested on his shoulder. He stood there and let her. She stood in close, leaned in and kissed his cheek. Well, she was aiming for his cheek, but she couldn't aim too well, apparently because she got the corner of his mouth. She fought down the blush enough to grin and say, quite clearly, "thank you".

Now she could blush. Uncle mike seemed to have been caught by surprise too, because he chuckled and said, "I'll take it into consideration…,".

"I was aiming for your cheek…," she rubbed at her arm.

"I figured. Either way, you're fine," he ruffled her hair.

They were quiet for a moment and she took the opportunity to get changed in his office again. She opted for the big daddy's pub shirt and a knee length black skirt. Dave had grabbed her more conservative underthings, like any surrogate father figure would. It amused her.

She came back out to find all the lights turned off and Uncle Mike handed over her blindman's cane. She took it gratefully enough.

"Whenever this whole business is over, I'll do whatever you like, so long as I'm able," she promised him.

"You're lucky I'm usually the beneficial sort," he chided.

He led her outside and she was ecstatic to feel that it was bright and sunny out. The sun had never made her that uplifted before, but maybe it was the ivy growing out of her head. It wasn't very warm, still, but she was glad to be out and about again.

"Glamour,' he reminded her.

"Oh, right…".

She brought up an imagined version of her adult self before getting mixed up in all the Fae business. She presented herself to Uncle Mike, who said, "close enough love".

The hardware store turned out to be a disaster. Someone carrying in lengths of steel rebar wasn't paying attention and bumped Uncle Mike hard enough to sling blisters across one arm. Heather sincerely hoped she never heard him scream like that again, it'd been so unlike the voice she knew. Plus side, the manager of the place gave him a discount on the door lock he needed, which turned out to be made of iron-free material. There had been an upsurge in "100% guaranteed iron-free materials" ever since the Fae came out, an attempt by local businesses to get new customers that weren't allergic to their product.

Mike decided to take her someplace that was a surprise after that, which turned out to be ice cream, and then a side trip to Dave's to see her dog. She looked forward to showing him Ellie, her gorgeous red-gold retriever. She was the long haired sort, and seemed to be much more like her normal self. She saw Heather and was all over her, tail wagging and tongue going. Heather showed Uncle Mike how well trained she was, putting her through her paces. Dave was happy to see her too.

They had to leave eventually, and after assuring Dave that she'd be back as soon as all this nonsense was done with, Uncle Mike drove her back towards the tavern. There was a river running alongside it, across the street a ways. She could smell the water even if she couldn't feel it beneath her feet. She asked him if it was safe to swim in, and his response was a grim "probably not".

"I think I'm going to just go dip my feet in anyway. I want to think for a little bit," she said. "is that ok?"

He took a moment to answer. A chill wind blew across the parking lot, making her shiver, and she felt a heavy coat being thrown over her shoulders despite her sweatshirt.

"Now you can. I'll keep an eye on ya from here," he told her.

She smiled and used her can to make her way, alone, across the street. She'd hear cars before she was ever hit by one but it helped if she didn't stumble over the pavement or small things in her way. The road was just a simple two lane affair and the grass on the other side felt dead, though she wasn't sure how she knew it. She heard the river better now, and when her cane splashed a nearby puddle, she began searching around for something to sit on. She soon found a big rock, and clambered up onto it, basking in the sun and listening to the water.

The kelpie had definitely seemed suspicious, and they were known to eat people on occasion. Add to that the fact that she just distrusted everything about him from his arrogant tone of voice to the way his magic felt and he was a pretty good candidate for whoever was eating people, but it was all circumstantial. Just because a kelpie DID sometimes eat people didn't mean he already had. She hadn't smelled any blood or anything on him, either. It was a possibility still, but she'd have to keep waiting.

The river moved pretty fast, sloshing and splashing slightly and she found it a relaxing sound. The sun was shining warmly on her skin, that skin that was bare anyway, and she decided to kick her shoes off and dip them in the water. As she expected it was freezing, but she splashed her toes around anyway. She had no worries for the first time in a long time, aside from the matters at hand. She had a steady job, an apartment away from her family, new friends and she now knew what she was. She couldn't help but feel content in the moment.

Until something cold and unyielding gripped her around her ankle and gave a vicious yank.

She slipped off the rock with a cry of surprise and it wasn't until she'd been almost completely submersed that she thought to cry out. She didn't just cry out, she twisted her torso to scrabble blindly at the rock she'd been sitting on and screamed as loud as she could. She surprised herself at the amount of terror in it. She let loose a bloodcurdling shriek just before her head was pulled under.

The river was icy cold and it numbed her hands and feet. Her head wasn't too far behind, and the current was impossible to swim against. She couldn't see what had her in a death grip by the ankle but she could feel its grip, freezing and slippery, but steadfast. She tried to kick out, but it was quicker in the water than she was. She thrashed as much as she could, even tried to catch her captor with the vines she had at her disposal, but to no avail. There was a distant piercing pain that was hard to describe as one of the vines was stripped of its leaves in a vicious counter attack.

She managed to claw her way to the surface long enough to take a deep, cold lungful of air and she gave another scream hoping Uncle Mike had heard. And then she was dragged under again. Enough was enough, she thought to herself. She wasn't human, she was part Fae and she would not be a victim, she refused to give up! No more of this 'can't win' nonsense, she was only helpless if she decided she was. She bent down beneath the rushing river water and tried to claw at the hand around her ankle, only to be rewarded with something freezing closing over her left arm.

At first it was just slimy and cold, but then a piercing sharp pain radiated around the muscle in her forearm and she screamed, letting water into her lungs. She fought doubly hard to get free and only succeeded in tearing the meat from her arm like chicken. She broke the surface yet again and screamed so loud her throat hurt. She fought like hell to get to the riverbank, she had no idea how far down they'd traveled with the current but now she felt that icy, slimy feeling close around her hip and more pain. Whatever had her was letting her breath and letting her scream, so it wasn't being very smart. It started to drag her down again, but she got her fingers dug into the dirt of the riverbank and held as hard as she could.

"HELP!" she shrieked.

There was an answering snarl and it held none of the warmth and good nature it normally did; it sounded furious and hungry and for a moment she was wondering which one she should be most afraid of, the thing in the river or the thing coming towards them. She decided to be more afraid of whatever was currently trying to eat her.

Her head was pulled under again and this time that slimy coldness was pushed over her right shoulder, down over her collar and part of her upper breast. Oh no… She growled and bit whatever it was only to be rewarded with something slimy and slippery like seaweed. It was bitter and salty and she hated the feeling of it but she was hoping to avoid the pain that soon followed. Teeth dug their way into her skin but it was superficial because at just that moment something gripped her around her upper left arm and hauled her so hard she felt something pop. It hurt far less and she felt cold air hit her wet body. She twisted herself, ignoring the pain, and clung to him, because it was Uncle Mike who had hold of her. He wasn't wearing his glamour.

Uncle Mike had a hold of her, one arm around her torso, but the thing in the river gave an unearthly noise that she couldn't even begin to describe. It still had hold of her ankle but Uncle Mike did something with his own magic and whatever it was gave a howl and let her go.

She was soaking wet and bleeding from at least three different bites and the wind bit at her skin but she knew she was safe. Uncle Mike picked her up and held her like one would a child, with her head against his shoulder and an arm supporting her bottom, and he started walking in huge, lumbering strides. She had no way of knowing how high up she was and she couldn't feel the ground vibrating so she had no way of knowing how big he really was.

A car horn blared and tired screeched but Uncle Mike didn't break his stride. She must have been washed pretty far downstream.

"What was that thing, it bit me, where are we…," she whimpered. She wasn't surprised to find herself crying again, damn it.

"Hish hush lass, we're going back to the bar," he said. He sounded afraid, something she'd never heard. She was willing to bet not many others had either.

She heard quite a few more car horns. Were they downtown? But soon enough she saw this wasn't the case. She heard the river again and smelled the familiar scents of the tavern. He'd left the door open when he ran to save her. She also heard voices, and a siren that quickly shut itself off.

"Clear off, Fae business, we've got it undercontrol," snapped Uncle Mike.

"Sir, we had reports of screaming-"

"-He said clear off, we police ourselves, it was a fae that attacked me!" she growled.

It took awhile but eventually the police cleared off, and she was brought inside and set down on top of the bar. The bar wasn't empty, though.

"Well well, so you managed to save her. Though if you'd been keeping closer eye on her it wouldn't have been necessary," said a very familiar creepy voice. It was Edythe.


	9. Meeting number 2

She thought she knew why one of the Grey Lords had decided on an unannounced visit, but for Uncle Mike his main concern was her at the moment.

He'd set her atop the polished bar counter and left to fetch what turned out to be a big woolen blanket, which he wrapped around her tight as a straitjacket. He rubbed at her arms throught he blanket and pushed her sopping wet hair out of her face before examining the bite mark on her shoulder. Her arm was still numb, but her hip was throbbing and she could feel the heat of her own blood soaking her clothing.

"I'm bleeding all over your bar," she whined over chattering teeth.

"I'll come back at a better time and we'll talk. Shall I send Baba?" asked Edyth, as if this was just a run of the mill thing that happened all the time. Heather had no idea who Baba was. Right then she didn't rightly care. She gingerly tugged at her t-shirt, pulling it off over her head. Her hair was so heavy with water that it got stuck, and Uncle Mike wound up helping her out of it. Teeth had shorn through her bra strap, so it hung off on one side. She cringed as he gently probed at one of the teeth wounds.

"No need, I've got supplies here. Look like Kelpie bites," he muttered. Heather didn't hear Edyth go but she noticed the lack of her there anymore. They said the ones who mimicked children often had nothing to hide.

"My hip… my arm, how bad is my arm," she whimpered. She held it up as if offering, and now he focused his attention on it instead, taking her by the elbow. He didn't answer her for a moment.

"Talk," she said dully. "How bad is it".

"He took a chunk clean out 'o you. I'd say we should get ya to a hospital but I dunno how used to treating Fae they are. It's up t'you love. I can treat the others, they aren't that bad. Looks like he just wanted to taste ya,".

"Hooray, I was mistaken for a seal," she said dully. The bites around her shoulder and collar throbbed and her hip ached right down to the bone.

"Lay back, lass, I'll fix what I can, but that arm looks bad," he said gently. He helped her lay out and she heard the click snap of what she hoped was a first aid kit. She smelled alcohol and antiseptic and a moment later the bites on her shoulder stung and ached. She hissed an intake of breath and moved a hand down to her left hip where she'd been bitten. It'd put jagged holes in her skirt and her underthings, and the bottom of her shirt that side was ripped. The wounds weren't very deep but the thing had a damned big mouth. She found bloody tooth marks clear across to the center of her hip just above her pubic bone.

"Don't mind the immodesty, just… stop the bleeding and I'll worry about my arm later," she groaned. She was freezing, and felt pretty vulnerable laid out on a bartop half naked. She wanted to call Dave, but she knew he'd have a fit if she told him she was attacked. She did have a cell phone, some fancy flatscreen thing Dave'd bought her that had a voice command prompt so she didn't have to hunt for random keys.

He got her shoulder all patched up more or less.

"I really dunno what to do for bandages, unless ya don't mind a million little bandaids," he admitted.

"It's fine, I've got sleeveless strapless shirts so the air hits them," she sighed.

She anticipated what came next but she still couldn't help but squirm and laugh despite the pain as she felt his fingers examine the wounds on her hip and lower (very lower) belly.

"What in the world?" he exclaimed.

"Heh… ticklish.. sorry. I'll try and keep it to a minimum," she said.

He got the ones on front disinfected and cleaned up, and to stop the bleeding he used a lot of gauze pads and a lot of tape. He rolled her onto her side to get the ones on the back of her hip and did the same, so when she sat up, she felt very awkward, like she better not move that side too much lest she upset the bandages.

"It's as best as I can do for now. Let's get ya out of those wet clothes and I'll run ya to the hospital," he told her.

He wound up giving her a heavy cotton tunic and a spare pair of sweatpants he had kicking around in the employee supply closet in his office. He claimed her tank top and skirt motif was too cold, as it was getting colder out and she was already sopping wet. Then he wound all her hair up in a big ball and held it there with some sort of heavy elastic band, to keep it off her back. She felt a little better for all of that.

"Why not just take me to that Baba person Edyth mentioned? Is she some kind of healer?" she asked.

She could hear the frown in Mike's voice.

"She is, and healing's a rare gift among the fae these days, but she doesn't like being bothered much and it's difficult to get her to heal run of the mill things like these unless there's somethin' in it for her. She gets bothered a lot," he said. "It'll be a lot less hassle to just do it this way. You want to call Dave?" he asked.

She sighed.

"You know he'll throw a fit, right? Probably yell at you?" she said.

"I know. But he'll stop eventually. There's not much he can say, you're not a werewolf," Uncle Mike huffed.

He finished cleaning up his bar and ushered her back outside, and she surprised herself by asking him if he'd stay with her at the hospital. "I just want someone with me," she sighed.

He helped her into his truck, and hopped in beside her.

"Course, lass. I'm going to call Dave anyway. He demanded I tell him if anything happened… I'm not obligated to, a'course but his fatherly attitude amuses me. He's a very old wolf who's not usually taken with pups like you," he chuckled.

"Yay," she said bleakly.

The admission into the hospital went lightning quick, possibly because she was fae and the doctors were terrified she'd turn them all into mushrooms if she got annoyed enough. She wouldn't have, of course, but they didn't know that and she was so grateful for the pain relief that it slipped her mind to tell them she was harmless. Dave was, as expected, furious. When he learned that it was most likely a Kelpie that had attacked her, he quieted a little; werewolves couldn't swim. Their muscle mass was too dense, they sank like rocks. He knew he couldn't do much against a kelpie. It didn't stop him from growling protectively and refusing to leave her side as her arm was sutured up.

It turned out a chunk of muscle had been taken, but nothing that couldn't be regrown. She was bandaged, and advised not to use that arm for anything for two whole weeks. Thankfully it was her left hand.

"I suppose this means the customers will have to be extra patient," she said as they were leaving the hospital. Dave insisted on guiding her by the hand.

"Aye, it does. And if they don't like it, they can just answer to me, an' I'll make'em their drink," said Uncle Mike.

"You don't think it was Kornak do you?" she asked. His snotty tone of voice sounded more like lazy arrogance than violent attack, but one never knew.

"No. Kornak is a brute, but even this is beyond him. He knows better, gotten himself in trouble before. But there's no doubt it's a kelpie," he replied.

Suddenly his cell phone rang, and Heather decided to talk to Dave, who sat up front beside him. She'd been relegated to the backseat. Apparently convalescence required a demotion in seating arrangement.

"So how did you even wind up getting attacked? What were you doing near the river?" Dave demanded. She could smell his anger, but beneath it she knew he was just worried about her.

"We'd come back from an errand and I felt like basking in the sun for a bit. So I went down by the river and sat on a rock. Might've dipped my feet in. Next thing I know I'm going for a swim," she sighed. "I bit it. Him. Whatever. Tasted like rancid seaweed" she cringed.

"Until this mess is solved, I don't want you anywhere near the water unless it's to take a shower, got it?" he insisted.

She sighed, though she knew his heart was in the right place.

"Yes, 'dad'," she gave in. Which reminded her…

While Uncle Mike talked on the phone, mostly in Gaelic or Gaulish, she couldn't tell which, she regaled Dave with all she'd learned about her biological father and her own heritage. She told him about the walking stick, and her odd dreams, because she told Dave nearly everything. She omitted the part about her waking up crying and spending the rest of the night cuddling with Uncle Mike. She considered It private and Dave didn't really need to know about it.

Uncle Mike hung up and said "The Grey Lords want to see you as soon as you're able, Heather". He didn't sound happy about it.

She curled her legs up to her chest in the backseat and shivered to warm herself within the confines of the tunic and blanket he'd loaned her. She was still a little cold.

"Hooray. I get to tell them about nearly being devoured by a freaking water horse," she huffed.

"How do you know it was a horse?" asked Dave. "Apparently they have a couple of different true forms".

"How should I know? I just know how it tasted. I don't really want a repeat experience".

"So are we going, then? If we have to I'd like to get it over and done with as soon as I can, please," she leaned her head on the window.

"I'm going with you, and just try to keep me out," growled Dave.

"Ya were allowed in last time because… well, we thought she was human. But she's Fae, and that makes it Fae business in the eyes of the Grey Lords. Don't be surprised if they turn ya away, and we both know they can," warned Uncle Mike.

"I'll change and howl at the door until one of them gets annoyed," he threatened. Heather giggled at the mental image and she knew Dave was smiling at his own wit. He did like to see her laugh.

"An' one of'em will open it an' bespell your furry hide into the next county," added Mike.

"And you might not have all your limbs and parts attached," Heather added with another giggle.

She felt the truck come to a stop and knew they were at the same place they'd met in before. As soon as they got near the door she got that scent of disuse again. The moment they stepped through, she knew she was doubly right because they sat her down in the same exact chair.

"Drop the glamour, please," said Lake Man, who she now knew was Beauclaire. His voice was just as she remembered it and he still smelled like growing things and summer lakes.

She did, with her hair still balled up and tied back such as it was. A stray vine of ivy hung down by her face and over her lap. She must look interesting; a blue-skinned Fae with green freckles, bandages everywhere, her left arm in a sling, wearing sweatpants and a tunic.

"It's only been two days and you've already been attacked," he said, his voice as smooth as silk. She caught an air of amusement about him.

"It wasn't my choice to suddenly go swimming if that's what you mean. I haven't heard anything interesting yet except some of the Fae are going to …. Interesting lengths to avoid upsetting you lot about the new law in place. But Uncle Mike thinks whatever bit me is a kelpie," she explained. She carefully untaped the bandage around her shoulder, which was left bare on purpose. The bite wound was about as big around as a pizza pan; whatever had owned that mouth was very big indeed.

Gentle fingers examined the wounds much the same as Mike himself had done, however more exploratory.

"It matches our suspicions. Fortunately there aren't a whole lot of Kelpie left in this part of the continent, so it could only be one of three. Two are accounted for. Kornak knows our wrath firsthand and The Fideal, while reckless, has alibis. Keep doing what you've been doing, minus offering up free food, and we'll be in touch," said Beauclaire.

As they were leaving, she was thinking.

"If they pretty much already know who it is, why are they bothering to keep me on his case? Why not just go and get the guy?" she demanded.

"We may police ourselves, love, but he majority of us still like to know they've got proof. They can be high-minded bastards and outright cruel sometimes, and they definitely abuse their power from time to time but they knew they're outnumbered. They like to keep the peace however temporary," said Uncle Mike.

"Would you mind if I sat in with you guys tonight when you open the bar?" asked Dave.

"Can ya promise to let Heather do the job assigned to her an' try not to eat my customers?" countered Uncle Mike.

Heather only snickered.

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The crowd was just as big if not bigger than the night before. Heather, despite her injured left arm, found herself accosted with drink orders, conversation and questions about how it'd happened. She told them the truth insofar as she knew it, but she didn't tell them it was a kelpie. All she said when asked was "something got me, obviously I couldn't see it".

And since all they could see was her arm and shoulder, no one asked about her hip.

They were patient with her newfound slowness for the most part, because they could see she was hurt, but those who weren't so patient, Uncle Mike dealt with himself.

Kieran McBride was there again, the very first Fae to be forced into the human limelight when his employer wound up dead by garden shears. He seemed keen to talk to her more, and she was only happy to while she cleaned up a few glasses.

"I wish I could heal you," he admitted as he worked on his second khalua for the night.

"I wish someone could, too, but what're you gonna do, right?" she tried to joke about it.

Biddy wasn't working tonight, but Fergus was. The band playing this time was more contemporary rock, think Puddle of Mud instead of Slipknot. She found she liked working alongside Uncle Mike. He helped her where she needed it but otherwise let her do her thing however she would. His scent, too helped keep her calmer. Nothing could keep her calm when all hell broke loose two seconds later.

One moment music was playing and everyone seemed to be having a good time, and the next there was pandemonium. She was behind the bar, so safe from being jostled, but judging by the footsteps and sudden shouting, roaring, snarling or snapping, out on the floor was hell.

"What's happening?!" she had to yell to be heard over the ruckus.

Uncle Mike's answer was the same sort of bellow it'd been when he'd been afraid for her life. It didn't sound much like him.

"Glamour's failed everywhere, they've all dropped! Stay here whatever you hear, you got me? STAY. HERE" and he was gone from her side with a rustle of furious leaves and thundering footfalls. Apparently he was somewhere around the eight foot mark.

Others were bigger. She felt the floor shake under the weight of something that sounded like a big car walking around and more than one Fae wasn't speaking English anymore. She heard wood splinter and crack, and suddenly the problem wasn't just glamour anymore.

She heard Fergus' voice and the footsteps of a man about her height a moment later. It was Fergus' voice but she didn't smell skittles anymore; all she got was the smell of earth and rot, not unpleasant smells in their own right. He must be some kind of earthen Fae.

"It's not just glamour, magic's failed everywhere! We can't use it, people are going insane. You might want to find someplace to hide!" he warned her.

"Hide!? From what?" she demanded. Surely they had more composure than this when faced with a crisis!?

She couldn't figure out what was going on and neither could anyone else. She curled herself up into a ball behind the bar and tried to look invisible, but Uncle Mike was back soon enough, huffy and furious.

"Heather, I don't know what's going on, but I need to put an end to it before my bar is destroyed completely. I'm going to take you someplace safe, and I want you to SIT PUT until I come to fetch you," he said hurriedly. Before she could say anything, he took her by the hand and she felt a wave of very weak magic that didn't feel much like his. If magic was down, how was he using his? But before she could even ask, all the noise, sounds, smells and feelings of Uncle Mike's Tavern disappeared, and she was left sitting on a tuft of springy grass, surrounded by silence.

"…. Hello?"


	10. Dog tired

The first thing she noticed was how quiet it was. Compared to the chaos that had become Uncle Mike's Tavern, this was unsettling. The air was still and balmy and she didn't smell hot wings and alcohol anymore; this place smelled only of sweetgrass, forest and earth.

The second thing she noticed was that the place felt ... eerie. Not a creepy sort of eerie, but she got a sense of home that she'd never felt before, a feeling that somehow she belonged here... or had been here before.

She had no doubts she must be Underhill, the land of the fae, or Fairyland as it was commonly referred to by non-fae. She'd heard stories about it, but obviously had never been and of all the times she wished she could see, now would be one of those times. And she didn't even have so much as her cane. Damn!

She wore one of the green tunics that was part of the uniform of Mike's staff and her black leggings that Biddy had brought to work with her once she heard that Heather was stuck wearing sweats after the kelpie attack. Heather was most grateful for them now; she'd have felt pretty vulnerable if all she wore was a kneelength tunic. She had to remember to give Biddy a six pack of Coors when she got a chance.

She caught a sound on the breeze that hadn't been her and whipped her head around. Uncle Mike had told her to stay put, and she intended to do just that. She couldn't see where she was going anyway and in a place like this where anything could happen, anything could be around her, she didn't think moving was a good idea anyway.

_Heeheehee..._

She whirled her head around again. She knew she'd heard something and now she was positive. A chuckle, faint, almost a whisper, coming from her right.

"Hello?" she called again.

_Haha... come and get me..._

She frowned, shutting out all her other senses for a moment. She ignored the feeling of the pleasantly warm grass beneath her and the scent of the flowers being carried by the breeze, ignored the warm sunshine that definitely didn't feel much like November. She focused only on what she could hear. Leaves rustling, the gentle shushing of what she thought might just be pussywillows, or perhaps tall grass somewhere. There was something she was missing... she could feel someone else here with her, or several someones.

_What's wrong? Can't find me? Come and get me and I'll help you leave!_

The voice was hard to define. It sounded like a child, but of which gender it was impossible to tell. But then she heard it laugh again and she got the feeling that no child laughed like that; whatever it was, she was getting annoyed. She didn't want to advertise her helplessness, though, not here. Something else might hear, and take advantage of the fact. But what else could she do?

"I can't see you, I'm blind. Where are ... WHO are you?" she demanded a little more sharply. She wanted to make it very clear that she wasn't in a game-playing mood.

Something flew past her head and she ducked, raising her good arm to defend herself on pure reflex.

"Cut it out! I'm serious!" she snapped.

Something made a sort of tinkling, bell-like sound, faint but there, and it was right in front of her. She searched for a moment, tilting her head this way and that until she thought she could pinpoint where it was coming from; about five inches in front of her nose.

_You really can't see me?_

"No... I can hear something, but I can't see you," she frowned, making her voice flat and unamused on purpose.

_Well, that's no fun! You can't play if you can't see! _

She sighed, and slumped, pulling her right knee forward and letting her left one curl up indian-style. Her left arm was in a sling.

"No kidding. Uncle Mike put me here, told me to stay put while he sorted out some kind of mess elsewhere," she sighed. She had no idea if this whatever-it-was knew who Uncle Mike was, but to her surprise, it seemed to.

_Oh, Green Man? I know him! I know that guy! You want me to take you to him?_

She frowned again.

"No... he's the one who brought me here. There's... an issue where I came from. I guess he's sorting it out," she shook her head. Was this thing dense, or did it just like messing with her?

"What are you?" she asked.

She got more of that tinkling, bell-like laughter and an unnatural breeze blew around her head in a circle, as if something had just done a loop de loop around her head.

_I'm a Pixie, obviously! So you can't play?_

Pixie... she got a sudden mental image of a glowing ball of light with wings flying around causing trouble and playing pranks. She wasn't sure if that's what they really looked like but she'd heard something about them liking to cause mortals trouble.

"No, 'fraid not sorry. And anyway I can't see, so... if it's alright, I'll just sit here and wait," she huffed. She rested her chin on her knee and made it clear her position was solid. She decided to curl and uncurl the vines and ivy tangled with her hair, to get a better feel where her hair actually WAS, and found that it lay around her in the grass like a great coppery ribbon. Well she assumed it was still copper.

_Oh, neat! You can move them! Say what sort of Fae are you?_

"Half blood... forest lord father, human mother," she sighed.

The pixie giggled again and Heather found herself sincerely wishing she or he or it would fly away and bother someone else, but at the very least she wasn't bored waiting alone. She made a mental note to watch how she worded things, so it didn't find any loophole it could exploit.

_Uh oh... I should go now, got to run! If you stay reaaally still, you should be okay too! Heehee!_

With another tinkling sound, the noise disappeared as if it'd never been there and Heather hadn't liked the way it'd suddenly changed its tactic.

"Hey! Wait, what do you mean if I stay really still? What's out there!? C'mon, SERIOUSLY?" she growled. "UGH...".

She was about to say more, but a different noise stopped her dead. A low, soft growl that didn't sound very unlike Dave when he was in wolf form. Were there Werewolves in Underhill? She didn't think so... This was bad.

She found a comfortable position kneeling with a leg on either side of her, and bowed her body forwards and downwards until her forehead kissed the soft, sweet-smelling grass and tucked her injured arm beneath her, over her belly. She used her other arm to cover her head, and tried to relax her breathing. This was a classic defensive position she'd been taught not long after her accident, to protect both her head and belly, leaving only her ribs vulnerable, and they were designed to protect her insides. She'd been taght self-defense too, but had never really gotten a knack for it, hence why Ellie was a guard dog as well as guide.

But Ellie wasn't here and this was her best strategy. Maybe whatever it was would pass her by.

She couldn't shut off her ears. The growl came again, low and soft and she could hear the whatever it was breathing, soft wet breaths like a very big dog. Her terror was great, but she tried to get a hold of herself. She stayed just as still as she could possibly be and that was when the sounds got closer... she could feel its feet vibrate the grass ever so slightly and she knew it wouldn't make much difference, she saw black no matter what she did but she shut her eyes tight. They glowed, she remembered. She didn't know how strong a glow it was, but she didn't want to give away her position any more than she already was laying out in the open like this.

The breathing and the growling got louder, until she was sure it stood not two feet away from her and now she could smell it. Whether it was fur or breath, it smelled sour, like spoiled meat and decay and beneath all of that, rotted leaves. Was it some kind of fae dog? Whatever it was it must be huge. The closer it got to her, the heavier it seemed to be. And then she heard something that made her blood run cold.

A growl, right beside her covered-up head and her hair parted slightly as it breathed on her. That was it. Now or never.

In absolute terror and literal blind panic, she sprang to her feet and ran for all she was worth. Her breath came in sharp panting sounds and there was soon a stitch in her side from not being able to use her left arm to balance herself. She ran like she had that day long ago on the beach as a child, except now she was blind and hoping she didn't run into anything or trip on something.

There was a sharp snarl and a deafening bark from behind her, and she knew by the sounds of the frenzied panting that the dog was after her. Its barks and the knowledge that she was now being chased made her scream and without being able to see where she was going, she ran headlong into something hard and vertical that made her head spin.

She fell to the grass, but there were tree roots too. One of them caught her ribcage at an awkward angle and she wheezed in subdued pain; she'd have a strange bruise there later. Tree bark and a stray leaf fell into her hair and on her clothes, and she remembered she was being chased. Had to find a branch.

"Please please please please, go away, don't eat me, please, go away...," she found herself babbling. She was so scared she was crying! She gave a short little scream and tried to scramble away, she'd never been more terrified not even when she'd been attacked by that kelpie in the river. She was lost in Underhill and she had no backup this time. She was alone and helpless and the dog was right on top of her.

There was a moment when she couldn't feel its footsteps and she got the sudden wild idea that it had leapt for her, and she just hugged the tree on her knees and screamed, but the attack she was expecting didn't come. There was an unearthly sounding shriek, high pitched and fierce, and a SNAP that reeked of some sort of unfamiliar magic and the dog ran off with a furious yelp.

NOW what had she run into?

This was all way too much... the fact that she was lost and it was all dark, she was regressing back to 12 years old when she was still getting used to being in the dark. Her terror didn't dissipate, and all she could do for a moment was cling to the tree and hyperventilate. She didn't realize she was shaking until the tree bark scratched her face and suddenly a small, slender hand touched her head.

She jumped, because she hadn't heard anyone approach, and curled her knees up tight to protect her belly again.

"Shush, I'm not going to hurt you...," said a different voice. She wasn't thinking clearly enough to get much of a scent off of whatever it was that had her now, but she didn't feel threatened anymore. That didn't help the adrenaline surge much.

"P-please... wh-where am I... I'm blind... I don't know where I am and I can't get back and he told me to stay put and h-how am I gonna get ho-home," she babbled. She was breathing alright but she was crying harder now. She'd never felt so much like a child as she did right then. She didn't have anyone to hold her or tell her things were alright, so she just hugged the tree. It at least was a solid point that she could orient herself around. It was too big around for her to touch her own fingertips and the roots told her it was very old but that was it. It didn't smell like any species she recognized.

"I'm a Dryad. It's my tree you ran into, and you're lucky you didn't hurt it," said the woman. She had sounded concerned at first but now she just sounded indignant. She didn't know a lot about actual Dryads, just that they were linked with their trees and if you messed with it, you messed with them.

She didn't loosen her grip by much, but she was starting to calm herself down a bit more. She was still crying, still the occasional hiccup but her initial terror was gone.

"How did you get here and where did you come from? Maybe I can help send you back," said the Dryad. Heather couldn't tell if she was still impatient or concerned. Maybe a little of both.

She wiped her face off on the sleeve of her tunic and shut her eyes a moment, trying to remember. She lifted a still-trembling hand and pointed in the direction she was pretty sure she'd come from.

"Th-there. Uncle Mike brought me over from his bar, something was going on that he didn't want me getting caught up in... I'm a half blood I dunno how to access the magic yet," she gave a weary sigh.

"Oh, Uncle Mike? Why didn't you say so? He spends a lot of time around here, has a place nearby. Do you want to wait there, or should I send you back?" she asked. She felt a gentle leaf or mossy tendril wipe the tears from her face but she didn't think it was the Dryad; the creaking sound told her it was the tree itself. She was still a bit too unsteady to be amazed or freaked out by the fact.

"Uhm... back, I guess. Near the Walla Walla Reservation in Washington State,..." she sniffed.

The Dryad didn't say anything else but there was another scent of magic, minty and slightly electric, and the world fell away around her ears.

She went from kneeling at the base of a tree to stumbling forward onto hard pavement. She caught herself with her hands and a sound of surprise left her lips. NOW where was she?

She took a moment to smell her surroundings and got the faint scent of car exhaust and the oily smell of blacktop. She was in a city, but the right one? Who knew how Dryad magic worked? But a moment later she smelled that elemental smell that reminded her of Fae. Water, fire, earth, leaves or snow, it was hard to be very sure. She knelt on all fours like that in the middle of what was either a road or someone's driveway, her hair forming a curtain around her head. Someone was walking towards her.

"Oy! What're you doin' in my driveway, How'd you get in here?!" demanded a very annoyed British accent. So apparently it was someone's driveway.

The closer the man got, the more her scenses told her he was Fae; some sort of water fae was her bet. She caught a whiff of some kind of animal too. He owned a dog.

She sat up straighter, with her left arm curled in its sling around her belly and her right arm moving the hair and tangled ivy out of her face. He'd see she was Fae any minute now.

"P-please... where am I... I was Underhill... chased by this massive dog... I'm blind, ran into a Dryad, I'm sorry, I don't know where I am...," she let him know. She still sounded scared to her own ears and she was tempted to cry all over again but she was back where she'd come from now. Unless this man stuck his dog on her, she wasn't likely to be chased again.

"Oh. I thought you might be human, you're in the Walla Walla Reservation... just past the gate. Here, c'mon, up you get...," he said, and she felt strong hands help her to stand. Judging by his footsteps and where his voice was coming from, he was a good foot taller than she was, making him somewhere around six and a half feet.

She stood steadily enough, and spent a few moments yanking the massive sheets of hair and leaves away from her face. He helped her for a minute.

"There we go. Much better. What's your name?" he asked. "Not seen you round here before".

She gave a shaky sigh.

"Heather... I work at Uncle Mike's Tavern, on loan from the werewolf pub few miles down the road... " she replied. She told him about the glamour failing and all the magic being unavailable, the reason Uncle Mike had left her in Underhill, and he listened attentively.

"Sounds like Witch hoodoo, I hate witches...," he huffed.

"... now so do I. Great," she snorted.

She remembered the wounds in her hip, shoulder and arm now, and the one in her hip especially throbbed. Her run had been unexpected and vigorous. She winced, and a whine escaped her throat.

"You've been through the ringer, haven't you? What got you?" he asked.

"Kelpie earlier...," she groaned.

He made a sort of growling noise that reminded her of the dog that'd chased her all of a sudden.

"Hate them, too. Stand no chance against'em even if I could outswim them... I'm a Selkie. Name's Todd," he introduced himself. Ah so that was why she'd felt fur against her arm when he went to help her up.

"Hi..," she said lamely. "... Could I bother you for a ride back to the Tavern?" she asked meekly.

He seemed to be thinking for a moment.

"I'll tell ya what. I'll give you a ride if you can tell me something... you play video games?" he asked.

The question caught her off guard a little, and she shook her head. "Not really, but my friend Ben does... talks about it a lot. What did you want to know?" she asked warily. Ben the dishwasher and part time cook at Dave's pub did indeed talk a lot about video games. Xbox, PC, Playstation, he played them all.

"How the hell do you use command blocks in Minecraft? I've been having the hardest time setting down a particular monster spawner...," he huffed.

She couldn't help but give a little giggle.

"If you've got a phone, I'll call my friend and he can tell you all about it," she countered. She winced again, her hip and belly really ached something nasty. She hoped he went for it.

"Heck with it, I'm desperate enough. Here," he handed her what turned out to be a flip phone. Thankfully there were raised bumps over the number five so she could pretty much tell where the other numbers were. She dialed Ben, whose number she knew by heart, and asked Todd if he had a speaker function. He pushed it and Ben the Werewolf's voice rang out.

"Hey Ben, it's Heather...," she said meekly.

"Heather? Whose phone are you using? You're lucky I picked up at all... you sound odd. Everything okay? Should I get Dave?" he asked. She heard the sound of a dishwasher in the background; he must be working.

"No, no actually it was you I wanted to talk to... I'm borrowing a, uh... friend's phone. He wants to know how to use command prompts to plant monster spawners in Minecraft," she told him.

"Oh that's easy... hit F3, look at your x, y, and z coordinates, write'em down, then type foreward slash setblock followed by the coordinates, then mov, underscore spawner, zero replace and then brackets with entity id and a colon, tpe whatever it is you want it to spawn, another bracket and done! Enter, and you got yourself a spawner," Ben explained.

"YES! THAT'S what I was missing!" Todd suddenly exclaimed. "Those bloody brackets!"

"Who the hell is that?" asked Ben suddenly.

"No one, Ben, thanks a ton, you rock...," and she hung up on him.

"So?"

"Let's go!"

He helped her up the driveway and gave her a boost up into what turned out to be the biggest truck she'd ever been in in her entire life. It had its own sidestep and handles to grab onto.

"Is this a pickup truck or a semi?" she joked.

He laughed, and started it. Diesel. It purred and growled as he backed it up, and they were on their way.

"So it's not permanent, what the witches did to the tavern? The magic-suckage?" she asked as he drove. She felt awkward sitting in a stranger's truck. It smelled like leather and dog and him.

"Bah, shouldn't be. Uncle Mike can handle almost anything a witch could throw at him, unless it was a death curse, and from what I hear those are hard to manage. You're the new bartender I've been hearing about, huh?" he asked.

"Ha.. word does get around, doesn't it" she said flatly.

"You kidding? A blind bartender who refuses to use glamour, that's BOUND to travel the fae grapevine," he laughed. The truck gave a roar as he left the gates, and he turned left and gunned it. She didn't know how fast he was going, but apparently he liked big trucks and fast cars.

"Suppose... I just hope he isn't mad that I disobeyed him, he was pretty adamant that I stay put, but there was this pixie, and then this massive dog, I think. Chased me, smelled like rotten meat and death," she shuddered. The memory of it alone was enough to make her feel small and helpless again.

His voice was dark when he replied.

"Faehound. Nasty things. The thing is, not many of them roam wild anymore. Means you have the worst luck in either world, or someone Underhill really wants you dead".

She groaned and leaned her head back into the leather.

"Greaaaaat".

Tires crunched familiar gravel as he made another, smaller left turn, and she could hear music again.

"We're here. I'll help you in if you want, no offense lady but you look like twelve miles of bad road," he said kindly, and before she knew it, her door opened, and he was helping her step down. Her feet touched the familiar parking lot, and she felt her way around the truck, arm outstretched until she felt the railing that'd lead up the stairs.

He was at her side in a moment, opening the door for her, and she was blasted with the now-familiar scent of hot wings, burgers, beer and people. It seemed that whatever had gone down was over now, and the noise wasn't as boisterous as it HAD been, but it at least felt more like normal. The tension was gone from the air at least.

"Heather, thank Underhill you're alright...," said Uncle Mike out of nowhere, and before she knew it she was being wrapped in a bonecrushing hug. He was mindful of her arm and shoulder. She breathed his usual scent in deep, and it all came crashing back. Being so displaced, the dog, being chased, not knowing, not being able to fend for herself... before she knew it she was crying again, though silently. Todd patted her on the back.

"Hush hush, come on, my office. Todd, drinks are on the house for you tonight," he said hurriedly. She didn't think he was really contemplating what he was saying, but she heard Todd give an appreciative "sweet!"

"That's him out of the way, come on...,".

He led her to the relative quiet of his soundproofed office, and sat her down.

"You're not mad are you?" she asked.

"Mad, a bit. Angry? No. It was a Witch, before... that was why we all sort of lost our heads for a moment there. But it's been taken care of. I popped back Underhill to get ya, an' I find empty grass an' one annoyed Dryad," he chuckled. "Gave me quite a turn when she said it was a Faehound. Are you alright?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Fine... I was so scared... terrified... it was like I was 12 again...," she mewled.

He sat in front of her and let her lean against him, and he just held her, rubbing her back soothingly and resting his chin on her skull.

"It's a'right, love yer safe... safe an' sound, not puppy chow," he tried to tease. The irony of it made her laugh and he wiped her face.

"There, that's better. You alright to work or d'you want to spend a few in here?" he asked.

She thought about it, and decided to slump back onto him and let her head rest near his neck.

"Hmph," she pouted.

He didn't say anything, but he sat there and held her until she thought she had a hold on it again.


	11. Sealed with a kiss

Uncle Mike left her sitting there while he went back out into the din of the tavern to keep the peace between what sounded like a troll and someone else, and she just sat there, his scent in her nose and the feeling of whatever brand of charisma magic he used. It took her a moment to realize she was thinking of him with a sort of comfortable warmth in her face and a smile. She could still feel his arms around her shoulders, and the protectiveness in his voice. Was she under some kind of delusional spell that most people associated with fae whose magic was like his, or did she seriously have a crush on the man? Granted, if he was the same Green Man talked about in pagan lore he was close to a couple thousand years old but then a lot of fae were purported to be immortal. Then she remembered the breeding law that she wasn't exempt from, and the impossible fines and consequences involved if people didn't meet it. Mike had said he couldn't afford the fines, and the fae couldn't lie but she'd talked to others. Mike was one of the old ones who HAD money, and just chose to invest it in other things. So in that, he couldn't afford an avoidable fine.

She knew she couldn't. Apparently the fine would be in the several-thousand range. When it was just easier to bone and spread the genes around, most fae wouldn't want to disobey.

She wasn't going to get over her heart-pounding fear by sitting in here quaking, thinking about what it might be like to cuddle with her boss again, so she got to her feet, smoothed out her hair and clothes, and walked back out into the general hubbub.

The noise had managed to ramp itself back up and now that the witch's spell had been flicked aside, most seemed content to talk about it, or disregard it completely. From what she was picking up the general opinion was, witches sucked. She didn't know a lot about them, except that they used blood and death to power their rights, both white and black, though white were far less violent than their dark counterparts.

"Hey, Heather, you missed all the excitement," said a voice she recognized, and the man whoever he was patted her on the back. She couldn't help but flinch a little, as she felt her way back behind the bar.

"Believe me, I didn't…." she said quickly. It took her a moment to realize who had spoken. It was Kieran.

"Wanna talk about it?" he asked. They'd gotten to be decent friends since she started working here per order of the Grey Lords.

She sighed and remembered the sound of that faehound panting, her blind run through someplace that changed on its own whenever the fancy struck it, and not knowing where she'd wound up, and shook her head. "Not really… let's say a faehound was involved and leave it…".

Kieran made a hissing sound. "Nasty".

"You don't have to tell me…" she shivered again.

"Here love , drink" said a familiar voice, and he took her hand and placed a glass mug into it. She sniffed. The glass was warm and whatever was in there smelled of fresh apple and baking cinnamon but there was a strange underhint to it. Oak? It seemed to fill her up from top to bottom before she even took a sip. It was as delicious as it smelled and seemed to spread a warm tingly feeling to her every nerve ending. She licked her lips and just had to ask.

"What IS this?"

She felt warm breath on her neck and in her ear and Uncle Mike whispered "It's best ye don't ask. Call it cider, it'll do wonders on the nerves, but I can't promise it won't make ye sick later…".

She thought on those words for a moment, decided to hell with the consequences, and kept sipping it. It DID do wonders for her nerves. She got the feeling it was some kind of "fairy brew", but as she didn't feel compelled to do anything against her will and she wasn't feeling immediately ill, she considered things all good.

Work progressed like business as usual but with the breeding deadline approaching the topic of conversation went from the witch, to the law. From sounds of it, half of them were fine, some of them had plans and the rest claimed to be untouchable, citing they already had "broodmates", as they were being referred to. She found it a little distasteful but fae numbers were at an all time low, so she figured it was just their way of coping with the fact that romance couldn't really be part of things.

And speaking of the topic of the new breeding law…

"Has anyone claimed you yet, then?" asked a man at the bar who had just sat down. He didn't sound like a regular, so either he didn't come in often or he was just visiting.

She turned to him and frowned.

"No one gets to 'claim' me," she scowled. "What'll it be?"

"A date with you?" he asked. She got the subtle scent of magic and it made her head feel swimmy, but she was far used to this from Uncle Mike. She preferred his particular brand more than this novice.

"Stop that," she snapped. "Guinness it is".

The man whoever he was actually listened to her, and she slid the bottle across to him.

"I was just havin' a bit of fun…." He huffed.

"For the record, no. I don't have anyone just yet" she figured she'd tell those within earshot.

No one really said anything more past ordering drinks until the bar FINALLY began to close up. Kieran had even left, as had Todd, the Selkie who had rescued her from the reservation. Pretty soon it was just her, Fergus and Uncle Mike himself as always. Mike and Fergus were discussing something in his office so she occupied herself cleaning as usual. She thought she'd finally calmed down, a mixture of time and whatever sort of brew Mike had given her. She thought she'd get a ride with Mike and so she took a seat once everything had been done and waited.

She couldn't know what they were talking about, because they weren't speaking in English. Eventually Fergus walked out, said his goodnight to her and left.

"I wanted –"

"Hey, I was wonderi-"

They started speaking at the same time, and she managed a weak chuckle.

"Aye, ladies first," he said.

She pushed her hair out of her face, the great heavy weight of it like a lead curtain and she tucked a vine behind her ear and said "I was wondering if I could talk to you before we head out".

A gentle hand helped her stand though she didn't need it, and she stood.

"Well as it happens I wanted to talk to you too," he agreed. He led her back into his office and she felt around for a chair. She sat, and waited for him to start. She had a feeling she knew what this was about anyway.

"The breeding law," she guessed.

He heaved a weary sigh and she heard him ruffle a hand through his hair. "Aye. The breeding law," he agreed.

"It's all anyone talks about now," she folded her arms.

"So it seems. I don't suppose anyone's asked after you?"

She snorted.

"Yeah, one earlier. Guy tried pulling some kind of magical whammy, but I'm too used to yours. Told him to quit it, gave him a beer," she snickered.

This made him outright laugh and it turned out that, too was infectious. Soon she was giggling along with him and she leaned her elbows on the front of his desk and just laughed until her sides hurt. Not just at her reply, but everything just pouring out of her, the trauma, both from the river and Underhill, and everything that had happened over the last few weeks. It all flooded out of her in her laughter.

Soon enough they stopped and she asked, "you?"

He stopped chuckling for a moment. "Aye, a few, mostly old friends but I know it'd never take. Y'know," he added. She assumed he meant a pregnancy. Fae breeding with fae was a slow process, though no one as yet would tell her precisely why.

She smirked and remembered the face she'd felt, his true form. Flowers and leaves, nature, the very essence of life. She frowned. "SURELY, the Green Man wouldn't find it difficult to have a kid?" she smirked.

He growled a little.

"Don't you start too. I'm humble about my power and what I can do, even how old I am, but I'm still a livin' man. If I were an ACTUAL tree, no I don't see it'd be difficult" he shot back.

She sighed. "So no one's asked either of us, leastaways no one we'd get along with, is that the gist of it?"

"Yes, that'd be a succinct summary, and it's a problem. Deadline's only a week away," he sighed. "An' I can't lie".

She brightened a little. "I can!"

She could practically imagine his scowl.

"Truth isn't somethin' you should mess around with, you know. An' if any of the Grey Lords found out you'd lied, you'd have wished you hadn't," he said darkly. "Ye don't know what they're capable of".

"So the point of this whole conversation was-?" she wondered. She was just asking, not being a smartass at all.

"I wanted to ask if you'd consider me," he said after a moment's pause. She blinked a moment, sure she hadn't heard right. She considered it alright. The deadline was soon, they knew each other a bit better than she knew any other fae around the area and he was generally kind to her. He didn't consider her blindness a handicap at any rate. And she did like him. But the breeding law implied a child being born, and THAT wasn't easy to consider, at ALL. But she was considered a part of the fae now, and it was a law. And if she said yes, he would consider it binding. He was full fae, powerful, ancient and no dummy.

"It would mean…. Y'know," she shrugged. "You don't have a problem with the half human thing or ," she waved a hand in front of her eyes. He huffed a little.

"I never minded the humans, not insofar as a species. The iron annoys me," he frowned. "But it annoys us all. You don't have to give me an answer right away, we work together near every day, but just… think on-"

"Yes".

She had blurted it out before she'd even had a chance to consider the downsides.

There was a very pregnant pause.

"Are you certain?" he asked her.

She gave it another thought, and nodded. She could certainly do worse, and right then the pros outweighed the cons. They'd both be untouchable, fine-wise and she could worry about babymaking at a later, less hectic date.

"Yes,". Then she thought about it. The fae were a very word-oriented people. If you declared something that meant anything, you damn well did it right. She decided to make something up on the spot.

"I accept your offer of pairing off per order of the new breeding law," she recited. Then she hoped it didn't sound too stupid. He chuckled a little, and she felt him take both her hands in his. They were warm and slightly rough, though she thought that was just because hers were smooth.

"That'll do well enough," he said, and he put a hand to the side of her face and before she knew it he was kissing her.


End file.
